
PRicgj25|Cenxr 




TPI>M3E APPLIED By 
■J[T?E .AMERie/W JS/EW9 GoMF&AfK, 

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Traveling alone. 



A WOMAN'S JOUKNEY 



Around the World. 





B X 




LILIAN LELAND. 


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PROM THE 




PRESS OF JOHN POLHEMUS, 




102 Nassau Street. 



Trade Supplied bt 

THE AMEEICAN NEWS COMPANY 




i. 



New York: 
1890. 



Copyright, 1890, By E. L. Andrews. 
All rights ,et,erved. 






gjetf ijcatixru. 

TO THOSE WHO HAVE BEEN KIND TO ME 
IN EVERY LAND 

ON EVERY SEA, 

THIS SIMPLE RECORD OF MY TRAVELS 

is 

GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED. 



LILIAN LELAND. 



REFERENCE TO CONTENTS. 



Page 

Introduction, ...... vii 

How I Came to Go, ..... 1 

Off for Cape Horn. Straits of Magellan — A Hurri- 
cane — Valparaiso, ..... 3 

California. San Francisco — Chinatown — Big Trees — 

Southern California, . . . . . 14 

A Stage. Ride, . . . . . .23 

Yosemite, ....... 26 

Geysers, ....... 33 

Sandwich Islands. Honolulu — Cannibals — Lepers, . 35 

Ho, for Japan 1 Yokohama — Dancing Girls — Tokio, . 45 
A Japanese Journey. Tea Houses — Human Horses— 
■ Nikko — An Earthquake — Kobe — Kioto — Japanese 
Theatres — The Inland Sea — Nagasaki, . . .58 

China. Shanghai — Hong Kong, ... 83 

Singapore, ....... 92 

Java. Batavia — Buitenzorg — Bandong, . . 99 

Ceylon. Kandy, ...... 110 

India. Pondicherry — Madras — Calcutta, — The Himalaya 
Mountains — The Sacred Ganges — The Pearl Mosque — 
Delhi — Jeypore — Bombay — Towers of Silence — Caves 
of Elephanta, ...... 114 

Bombay to Cairo. Aden— Suez — Pyramids and Sphinx — 

The Nile — Alexandria — Waterspouts, . . . 146 

The Holy Land. Jaffa — Jerusalem — Temple of Solomon — 

Bethlehem — Beirut — Smyrna, . . . 156 

Constantinople. Whirling Dervishes — The Black Sea — 

Mosque of St. Sophia — Turkish Women — The Sultan, 164 



VI REFERENCE TO CONTENTS. 

Page 

Greece. Athens — Acropolis and Parthenon — Corfu, . 170 
Italy. Naples — Pompeii — Vesuvius, . . . 175 

Rome. The Vatican— St. Peter's— The Old Masters— Pal- 
aces and Churches — Forum and Colosseum — Florence, 
San Marco and Uffizzi, ..... 184 
Venice. Doge's Palace — St. Mark's — Tomb of Canova — 

Milan — Italian Lakes, . . . . 206 

Switzerland. The Alps — Lucerne, . . . 219 

Germany. Strasbourg — Dresden — Berlin — The Rhine — 

Cologne, . . . . 223 

Holland. Amsterdam — Hague, .... 237 
Brussels, ....... 240 

Paris, . 242 

Land of the Midnight Sun. Denmark — Norway — 

Arctic Circle — North Cape, .... 251 

Russia. St. Petersburg — Peterhof — Moscow — Warsaw, . 269 
England. London — Hampton Court — Windsor — Strat- 

ford-on-Avon — Kenilworth — Warwick Castle, . 280 

Scotland. Edinburgh — Abbottsford — Holyrood — The 

Trossachs, . . . . . . .290 

Ireland. Giant's Causeway — Dublin — Killarney — Blar- 
ney Castle — Queenstown, .... 294 

Homeward, ...... 299 

The United States. Rocky Mountains — Colorado 
Springs — Garden of the Gods — Grand Cafion of the 
Arkansas — Salt Lake City — Lake Tahoe — Sierra Ne- 
vadas, . . . . . . .302 

Yosemite — Second Visit, .... 318 

The Columbia River, ..... 331 

Yellowstone Park, . . . . . 336 

The Return to New York. Minnehaha — Farm Life — 

Niagara — The Hudson River — Home, . . . 349 

In Conclusion, ...... 356 



INTEODTJOTIOK 



The successful accomplishment of a journey of nearly sixty 
thousand miles, made by a young woman, traveling alone, is 
calculated to excite wonder and admiration ; and when the 
record of that journey is replete with original thought, the ema- 
nations of a bright intellect, it possesses a special interest. 

Lilian Leland, at the ag*e of twenty-five, without premedita- 
tion or preparation, started upon a voyage which, unexpectedly, 
became the commencement of a journey which carried her 
around the world, to many lands and on many seas, from Cape 
Horn to the North Cape and from the Rocky Mountains to the 
Himalayas ; but little less than sixty thousand miles in distance 
and covering a period of about two years. 

She traveled without escort or protection except chance ac- 
quaintances met on the way. 

No woman has ever traveled so far alone, with the single 
exception of Ida Pfeiffer who went twice around the world. 
Next to Lilian Leland is Isabella Bird, whose admirable books 
have earned for her a well deserved fame. 

The ease and comfort with which Lili an Leland accomplished 
her remarkable journey, and the enjoyment she found in it, 
were doubtless greatly due to the fact that she possesses qualities 
specially adapted to such an experience. Although so fragile 
and petite that at twenty-five she had the physical appearance, 
as well as the diffidence and timidity of a girl of seventeen, she 
possessed an amount of nervous energy and a power of endur- 
ance seldom found in a woman- 
Retiring and reserved in manner, she was, nevertheless, ca- 
pable of facing the greatest possible danger without flinchingj 
or the most aggravating difficulty without annoyance. With 
a highly nervous organization which renders her keenly alive 
to everything calculated fo excite fear or irritability, she has a 
self control which enables her to meet every emergency with 
perfect composure. 



VU1 INTRODUCTION. 

Charming in person and manner, she conceals beneath an 
attractive exterior a perfect self-reliance and an indomitable 
will. 

She never complains, never finds fault, is always smiling and 
cheerful in appearance, no matter what she feels or thinks. 

Always anxious to oblige others, she is never willing that 
others should discommode themselves for her. 

That such a woman should make such a journey, and be 
everywhere the recipient of kind, respectful and courteous 
treatment, is not strange. 

This story of her travels is composed of letters, partly in 
diary form, written for the entertainment of the family circle 
who watched her progress with affectionate interest. The pleas- 
ure the family and friends who received them found in reading 
these letters suggested the idea of publishing them. 

They are a record of personal experiences, interspersed with 
observations and thoughts of the writer, rather than an account 
of the places or the people the traveler saw. She cares nothing 
for dates or dimensions, and statistics have no fascination for 
her — but she sees the beauties of nature and has a ready appre- 
ciation of all that is human, while her descriptions are vivid and 
full of charm. 

The writer of this introduction having had these letters placed 
in his hands for editorial revision has not made an attempt to 
adapt them to any standard of literary criticism, nor to deprive 
them of the freedom and informality of style permissible and 
enjoyable in a private letter. Excepting, therefore, that they 
are put into the form of a continuous narrative, the editor has 
been content to be little more than a proof reader, believing that 
any effort at alteration or condensation would deprive them of 
the interest they now derive from the personality of the writer. 

It is proper to say that Lilian Leland is at the time of this 
publication, several thousand miles distant from New York and 
will not see this story of her travels in type until after it is pub- 
lished. The editor, therefore, assumes entire responsibility for 
whatever shortcomings or defects there may be. 

Editor. 

New York, January 15, 1890. 



A Womafs Journey 
Around The World, Alone. 



HOW I CAME TO GO. 

If there was any one particular thing that I had always had a 
horror of, it was traveling, and especially traveling alone. 
The fatigue and deprivations of travel — the attention to bag- 
gage, tickets, changes, et cetera, required in traveling alone — 
were appalling to think of. Any enjoyment which involved 
an hour's ride on the cars, or the finding of a new locality, even 
in the familiar city of New York, I considered not worth the 
trouble. On the other hand, I had talked, since I had been 
" knee high to a grasshopper," of the widely extended travels I 
wished to make, and for some time past, being out of health, I 
had yearned openly for the sea, and wished, in piteous accents, 
that I might be permitted to go to California, via Panama, or to 
Europe, or somewhere — anywhere. 

Between the gentle reader and myself, confidentially, I was 
a fraud of the most deceitful type. In my secret soul I didn't 
want to do anything of the kind ; but it amused me to say I 
did. Fancy my horror, then, one day, when the head of my 
house walked in and said, " Here is a fine opportunity for you; 
the beautiful new steamship Santa Rosa is to be sent around the 
Horn to San Francisco in a few days, so if you really wish to 
take a long sea voyage I will secure a passage for you on her." 
Now I happen to have another strong characteristic besides this 
one of expressing desires to do all kinds of things that I would 
really rather not do except in imagination, and that is an utter 
inability to take back anything, or to show any weakening of 
determination ;_ therefore, when the steamer was found for me 
to go on, there was nothing left for me to do but to go. So I 

l 



2 HOW I CAME TO GO. 

went ; steadfastly ignoring all loopholes of escape offered me 
by my anxious friends. 

I am not possessed of much real courage, I fear, but I have 
plenty of bravado, and a large stock of determination, known 
to my friends as mulishness, which, backing bravado, makes 
that base imitation outcourage courage. Therefore, after a 
week's scramble and hurry and bustle, I found myself looking 
across a rapidly widening gulf of water at the aforesaid head of 
my house as he was being taken back to New York by the little 
tug that accompanied us down to Sandy Hook, while I was 
being carried out to sea by the Santa Rosa — a saucy laugh still 
on my face, but terror and desolation in my heart. Two 
months at sea without possible communication with home or 
friends ; two months with all the possibilities of disaster, illness 
and death to those I had left, and I not to know or be on hand 
to avert or console. Two months of sea with all the horrors of 
possible storm and shipwreck. All this whirled through my 
head at once, till I was dizzy with the terror of it which I had 
fought successfully up to this moment. Now I strove with a 
mighty impulse to stretch out my arms and call to him before 
it was too late forever, to take me back to my home and family 
and not let me go on this dreadful journey. I conquered. I 
swallowed both terror and tears, smiled coquettishly at the 
passing Captain, and flung him a saucy remark to hide the 
trouble that possessed me. I sat apart and looked at the sea 
for hours, turning my thoughts by degrees from what I was 
leaving behind to future enterprises, successes, joys ; until at 
last, when I went below to supper, my emotions were buried 
deep as ever under a bravado gaiety, and I was put down by 
my fellow passengers as a most heartless and unfeeling woman. 



OFF FOE CAPE HORN. 

On Sunday, February 24th, 1884, brightest and coldest morn- 
ing 1 of the year, the fine new steamer Santa Rosa was labori- 
ously hauled out of the mud of the East River wharf, at the 
foot of Ninth street ; a difficult operation, in which the strained 
staccato voice of the pilot played the most important part, and 
proceeded slowly down the river under the Brooklyn Bridge, 
on down the bay, past Governor's and Bedloe's Islands, through 
the Narrows to Sandy Hook, in the teeth of a wind so bitter 
cold that the passengers were utterly unable to face it for more 
than a few moments at a time. So cold it was that the steam 
which condensed upon the smokestack froze there even under 
the rays of the bright midday sun. At Sandy Hook the com- 
passes were adjusted, the pilot put off on a tug, and the Santa 
Rosa got under way and soon left the land far behind. 

As we got out to sea the temperature moderated a little. The 
next morning rose cloudy and by afternoon the wind had risen 
to a gale, which increased to something like, if not quite, a hur- 
ricane. We struggled out on deck that night in spite of the 
wind to take a look at the brilliant phosphorescent sea that was 
rolling and tumbling from beneath the stern of the vessel ; but 
after the briefest of glances we were glad to scramble breath- 
lessly back to the comfortable social hall, where we tried to tell 
stories and be sociable and maintain a decorous appearance, 
while the vessel rolled and pitched and creaked in every timber. 
At last we gave up the struggle with laws of gravitation and re- 
tired to our several cabins, there to be shaken and pitched and 
rolled about like so many dice in so many boxes until we were 
heartily tired of it and yearned for a moment's rest on solid 
earth again. 

All that night, and the next day and night, the gale continued 
to blow. The sea ran very high, the waves coming down with 
a crash overhead that was rather terrifying. Indeed, they 
broke the shutters of some of the upper staterooms near me. 
What with the roar and whistle of the wind, the noise of waves 
dashing overhead, creaking woodwork, crash of lamps and 
crockery, flying chairs and cuspidors and trunks, we got very 
3 



4 THE SANTA ROSA. 

little sleep. My trunk slid up and down my stateroom the 
whole of the first night, with a bang at each roll that 
threatened to knock out the sides of the cabin, and we passen- 
gers were obliged to maintains tight hold on berths and sofas 
to keep on them at all. 

Two days more of rough and gloomy weather and then the 
winds and waves subsided, and we found ourselves enjoying 
the most delightful, balmy days, as we sailed through the acres 
of gulf weed with which the sea was strewn for miles and miles, 
for we were still crossing the Gulf Stream. We fell to basking 
in the' sunshine on the forward deck in broad hats and Summer 
attire, while the steamer assumed the aspect of a floating laun- 
dry as the wet carpets, curtains and bedding were hung out to dry. 

About this time we found a stowaway on board. He was a 
poor, miserable, seasick, half starved, half suffocated and wholly 
villainous looking creature. He appeared very much as if he 
might be an escaped convict. The captain set him at work. 
The sailors called him "Sweet Violets," and he answered to 
that name throughout the voyage. 

The Santa Rosa is magnificent in her appointments. She has 
accommodations for three hundred persons in the cabins ; but a 
literary man, who is an invalid, and his wife, with myself, com- 
pleted the passenger list. With the captain, purser and a young 
gentleman going out as shipping clerk, we made six at table. 
Perhaps six more uncongenial people were never got together 
before ; for, of the six, one was distinctly good, one naughty 
and one intellectual ; another was very sedate and quiet, 
another frivolous ; and the last eminently practical ; but we 
were all on our good behavior, bent on being agreeable and 
jolly, and so got on finely. 

Now we had beautiful weather, growing warmer and brighter 
daily, culminating at the equator in one intensely hot day, 
when the passengers and officers bloomed out suddenly in pink 
and white muslins, or white flannel shirts with silken cords of 
brilliant color ; and then cooling off by degrees as we ap- 
proached the Straits of Magellan until we got back to ulsters 
and fur shoes, and deserted the hammock swinging at the stern 
and the cool, starlit, upper deck, for the cosy social hall. 

On our approach to the equator the gentlemanly purser, who 
had been the first to appear in white flannel and red silk trim- 



CROSSING THE LINE. 5 

mings, causing us to remark the very "heavy swell" that 
morning, concluded that "discretion was the better part of 
valor" and shaved off his beard to avoid undergoing that opera- 
tion at the hands of old Neptune, who is supposed to arise from 
the sea to attend to the shaving of those unhappy individuals 
who are crossing the line for the first time. Actuated by the same 
prudent motives he forsook his cosy little stateroom and occupied 
each night a different one of the hundred or more beautifully 
fitted up, but vacant cabins, until the equator was well passed. 

Those ten days on the tropical ocean were as lazy and happy 
as they were bright. Perhaps we appreciated them more for 
the sudden relief from the piercing cold of New York ; and 
although the days passed so lazily there was no lack of interest. 
In the morning we must take a turn on deck for a breath of 
fresh air and a glance at the weather, which brought us down 
to the breakfast table with appetites that approved of everything 
set before us. There were no dyspeptic murmurs of discontent; 
we were all hungry and everything tasted good. 

After breakfast we adjourned to the deck, where we watched 
the sea, noting the daily diminution of the waves from foam- 
capped mountains to the tiniest ripple ; and the varying color, 
now green, shading from the palest tint back to the darkest and 
dreariest as the waves broke ; now gray, now blue, the bright- 
est, most brilliant beautiful indigo blue imaginable ; and then 
the snowy foam that capped the waves melted to the palest blue 
before it was swept up into indigo hills again. We woke one 
morning, the fifteenth from New York, to find ourselves in 
shallow water of pale green, with the Abrholos Rocks close at 
hand. There was nothing to be seen but a narrow sand strip 
with a lighthouse and a couple of frame buildings on it. 

Besides the sea itself we had flying fish to look at, as they shot 
out from the ship's approaching bow, flying straight as a dart 
clear above the waves for long distances before dropping back 
into the sea. Occasionally one flew on board, but was dead by 
the time it was picked up. Then there were the Nautili, the 
prettiest things imaginable, looking like tiny ships of fairy pat- 
tern, with rainbow sails ; and they rode the waves bravely. 
Now and then one careened over on its side, dipped its lavender 
tinted sails and was completely wrecked by the next wave ; but 
usually they kept themselves steadily upon their course. 



6 STRAITS OF MAGELLAN. 

When one is tired of these, there is the hammock in which to 
take a nap, and from which you are probably awakened to look 
at a distant sail ; or perhaps we speak a vessel ; or a school of 
porpoises is passing, jumping violently out of the water till 
they give the impression of so many half -submerged revolving 
wheels of fish, so perfect a half circle do they describe at each 
leap. Or perhaps a sudden shower rises, the furious raindrops 
beating down the waves and then departing, leaving a delight- 
ful freshness in the air. Or whales are to be seen spouting in 
the distance. 

Once we stopped the engines in midocean to " key up," and 
lay all day, rolling, as it seemed to us, to the verge of upsetting, 
while the quiet that resulted from the cessation of machinery 
was only broken by the creaking of woodwork as we rocked 
from side to side on the long smooth ocean swell. 

In the evening there was that interesting constellation, the 
Southern Cross, and as we approach the Straits, that mysterious 
group, formed of two bits of white fluff and one tiny black one 
known as the Magellan clouds, though of course they can't be 
clouds, or they would have been blown away by a Cape Horn 
hurricane long ago instead of remaining fixed up there, as they 
do, keeping watch over the Straits from which they take their 
name. These interest us until it becomes too cold and stormy 
to enjoy the deck, and, then the social hall seems very inviting, 
and stories of the sea are exchanged, punctuated sometimes by 
a general slide of the company from starboard to port as the 
winds and waves increase. 

Entering the Straits of Magellan on the 18th of March, we find 
low, sandy, barren, deserted banks on either side of us. It would 
appear that the water is shallow, for a man is kept "heaving the 
lead " until we come to anchor for the night in Possession Bay. 

We find the scenery improves as we advance, growing greener 
and higher, until we arrive at Sandy Point early the following 
afternoon, though it is still sandy enough at that place to make 
its name highly appropriate. We again cast our anchor and 
proceed to investigate the place and people with an interest born 
of twenty-three days' complete isolation from the world of land 
and folks. 

Point d'Arrenos, or Sandy Point, is a small Chilian settle- 
ment. An officer came out in a boat and took the captain and 



SANDY POINT. 7 

myself, the purser, and the shipping clerk ashore. We went to 
the Governor's headquarters and had a walk all over the place ; 
it takes only fifteen minutes to do it. The gentlemen hought a 
quantity of the most beautiful skins, at very low prices. Being 
the only lady in the party, I came in for the presents ; a very 
beautiful bouquet was gathered for me while the furs were being 
purchased, and, returning to the boat, the boatman presented 
me with two live, red, crusty and curious looking crabs. What- 
ever I shall do with them I don't know. The people, Chilenos, 
as children, are very pretty, with their beautiful large black 
eyes. Three Indian women, wrapped in blankets of fur, came 
into the store where I was and regarded me with as much curi- 
osity as I did them. 

We got under way again early next morning, passing Eliza- 
beth Island and Whale Sound, where we saw any quantity of 
seals and several whales. Indeed, one great whale came un- 
comfortably close to us, for there was no telling what mischief 
she might do us if she happened to take offence at our presence 
and should try to chastise us with a gentle flip of her tail or to 
bite off the screw. 

We never left the bridge these days, although it was very cold, 
because there was so much to see. The scenery grew grander 
steadily, the banks had come to be magnificent palisades now. 
Great glaciers were to be seen on either side of us, stretching 
blue and icy from the top of the cliffs down to the water, while 
far beyond were glittering peaks of snow from which we caught 
an icy breeze. These peaks of snow were so high that we fre- 
quently thought them, white clouds at the first glance. We 
were three days passing through the Straits. The last night we 
anchored in Borgia Bay, a lovely little place, uninhabited, with 
the exception of a single Indian hut. 

We presently saw a canoe start from the shore and come for 
us. There were four Indians in it, and a fire. They carry fire 
in the bottom of their canoe, always transferring it from boat to 
hut and hut to boat. As soon as they were within shouting 
distance, all four set up a chorus of shouts for whisky. They 
simply remarked "whisky" ensemble. After a few minutes 
they made a slight variation to tobacco, from that it was an easy 
gradation to pipe, and one, coming on board, ventured the 
highly appropriate remark "pantaloon," a remark which won 



8 NATIVE INDIANS. 

an immediate response from the tender hearted crew in the 
shape of divers coats, trousers and caps. This was cold weather ; 
I was wearing fur shoes and an ulster, the tops of the moun- 
tains all ahout were covered with snow, and these people were 
out on the water rowing about, with nothing in the world on 
them hut a piece of skin over the shoulders. They flew into the 
pantaloons, however, with a haste and skill that bespoke a pre- 
vious acquaintance with this desirable piece of furniture. Two 
men came on board, leaving in the canoe two women, one with 
a tiny pappoose in her lap, the other a young girl, quite pretty 
and pleasing. Even she did not disdain to ' ' seek the seclusion " 
which a pair of trousers "grants," and with the addition of a 
cutaway coat and hat she was transformed into a dude, much to 
her own glee. The women kept up a constant chatter for 
" carita" or charity. The woman with the baby, who seemed 
to boss the whole tribe and do the family talking, requested 
" carita" for the " pickaninny." The men were given pipes and 
tobacco. The Chief Engineer offered one of them his segar for 
a light, which was gravely taken by the Indian, who jammed 
it into his pipe where he left it and proceeded to smoke it. Hav- 
ing given them food and complied with all their demands but 
the first — whisky — they were sent away and returned to their 
hut rejoicing in their good clothes and apparently cherishing the 
most amiable feelings towards us. 

We remained at anchor that night, taking water from a moun- 
tain cataract. Sailed again at an early hour, seeing beautiful 
glaciers all along both sides of us, and mountains that seemed 
to be solid rock. Reached Cape Pillar at IP. M. , and made 
our first acquaintance with the Pacific Ocean, but we didn't find 
it a bit pacific. We soon lost our appetites again and grew 
very sad. We took to our berths early, not to reappear for 
twenty-four hours, and then only momentarily did we gaze 
into each other's wan and haggard faces, and crept sadly and 
discouragedly back to our berths again, expressing ourselves 
feelingly on the subject of high seas. All night long and the 
next day till night it blew a hurricane, and oh, how sick we 
were ! Even the invalid — so called, I began to think, from his 
superior health — " caved." He was seasick all night ; so was 
I. Oh, how sick ! The only one who bore up bravely was 
Mrs. H. , who is always a little seasick in fair weather or 



A HURRICANE. 9 

foul. She resisted. I could not raise my head without a wild 
and uncontrollable desire to turn a double somersault out of 
my bunk, or turn myself wrohgside out. I must confess that 
after fifteen hours Of that sort of thing I began to doubt — to 
hesitate over, as it were — the wisdom of taking another sea voy- 
age to Japan or Honolulu, or anywhere, as I had contemplated 
doing soon after my arrival at San Francisco. But I wouldn't 
have missed this storm for anything. I had no idea how 
serious it was at the time and was too sick and miserable to 
care. Now I'm mad because I didn't have spirit enough to go 
out on deck at the risk of being blown away. The wind blew 
so hard it took the ball off the mast head, and the barometer 
insisted upon going down to hurricane weather. But I had 
such sublime faith in the captain and officers and in my ever- 
lasting luck, and such beatific ignorance of the difference be- 
tween a storm and a hurricane, or how much of Waves and 
wind a ship can stand, that I didn't realize my good fortune in 
coming through it. The sea washed fifty feet of railing off our 
port side, broke the glass in the pilot house, carried a stateroom 
away — cleaned it out entirely, swept a cask of water from the 
forward deck and jammed it in between the mast and the pilot 
house, and lifted the great iron anchors. Below everything 

was confusion. Mr. H 's hat came across the way from his 

room to mine and stayed. I remained awake all night momen- 
tarily expecting his trunk to follow. I should not have been 
surprised even if he had come himself, the tendency my way 
was so strong. I had my trunks secured, but every few 
minutes I would hear some small article, like a soap dish or 
cologne bottle, which I had fondly believed to be secure, pop 
out on the floor where it would roll from one side to the other 
for the rest of the night. It was more than my life was worth 
to attempt to get out of my berth, not to mention my absolute 
want of interest in anything. The stewardess was nice, and 
the captain paid me cheering little calls at intervals, giving me 
sympathy and consolation and belladonna, and eventually as- 
sisting m6 to the deck, when it was safe, where I revived. Oh, 
we had a delightful time ! During the storm there were no 
candidates for dinner. The purser said he went into the dining 
saloon once but did not consider his dinner a success. He said 
it was tiresome dodging things. The racks, or, as we call them 



10 VALPARAISO. 

commonly, "fiddles" were on the table ; oh yes, but " fiddles" 
were not equal to the occasion. 

The stewardess concluded that the floor of the saloon was the 
safest place to dine, as it was surrounded by walls ; at least she 
couldn't fall off of it, that is, she thought she couldn't. She 
took up a position in a corner on the lee side, with her plate in 
her lap ; but she was barely settled comfortably when the meat 
departed from her plate, the plate followed the meat, and she slid 
after both; but none of them seemed to be satisfied, for they imme- 
diately drifted back again. But the dinner had got the start of 
the stewardess, so, as she couldn't catch up with it, she concluded 
to postpone it, as they do picnics, "on account of the weather." 

After twenty-four hours the hurricane subsided, though the 
waves continued to roll mountain high for another day or so, 
and then we sighted land again, the dim outline of the Andes 
being visible. On the 26th of March we dropped anchor in the 
snug little harbor of Valparaiso. Valparaiso looked very 
pretty from the deck of the Santa Rosa, rising abruptly from 
the bay in mountains that form, nearly, if not quite, a half 
circle. It is a picture in yellow and gray tints, the hills being 
bare of vegetation. 

Immediately after landing, one begins to climb. The streets 
in the city are all steep, some of them laid in stairs. The 
horse cars, like those I afterward saw in Europe, have an upper 
deck that quite took my nautical fancy. They have female con- 
ductors, not old or bad looking women either. This novelty 
also met my approval. We took a horseback ride up over the 
mountains whence we got a beautiful view of the city of Val- 
paraiso, the bay, and the Pacific Ocean. 

Climbing up these mountains we encountered a train of 
heavily laden donkeys. These donkeys exhibited a degree of 
intelligence" that made me wonder how the term "donkey" 
ever came to be used as an opprobrious epithet for stupid, 
blundering people. Instead of stupidly lagging behind and 
getting beaten, or foolishly rebelling against their hard lot, they 
would hurry on ahead of their driver and so gain a moment's 
rest, or time for a bite of succulent cactus, before that relentless 
task master came up. Riding on, we encountered one little 
beast that had outstripped the train and was lying by the road- 
side peacefully enjoying a hard earned siesta. 



MORE PASSENGERS. 11 

The ladies of Chili do not wear bonnets as a rule. Their 
street garment is a black shawl, which they wear over the 
head, giving it a close twist about the throat that converts it 
into a hood with a long cape. The ladies have beautiful dark 
eyes. It is supposed they have olive skins beneath the powder. 
It is said that the ladies of Chili never wash their faces ; they 
merely add a fresh coat of powder. Many cf those I saw were 
very beautiful. We remained at Valparaiso five days taking 
coal. Meanwhile our magnificent new steamship was on ex- 
hibition, numbers of people coming on board to see her. I 
began to feel as if I were on exhibition too, for these Spanish 
people did stare in the most distressing manner. The two other 
passengers went to a hotel during our stay, but I was too truly 
fond of the sea for that, and as the captain and officers were 
ashore a large part of the time, I had the ship to myself a good 
deal and began to take quite a proprietary interest in her. So 
when the American Consul brought his two pretty daughters 
on board, I took them off the captain's hands and monopolized 
them, leaving our handsome young purser quite out in the cold. 

Meantime there was the U. S. naval ship Wachusetts in 
the harbor, and a group of dashing young officers with whom 
we exchanged compliments. One of them took a party of us to 
Vina del Mar, the Coney Island of Chili. It was a pretty, 
quiet, village-like place, with tree-shaded streets. On the cars 
we passed some native villages that looked like squares of dry 
goods boxes, so small and low and uniform were the houses, 
while the streets were the merest passageways. 

On the first of April we sailed again, taking with us about 
thirty Spanish passengers. We three established passengers 
had our doubts about the sudden advent of a crowd of chatter- 
ing people, and certainly the confusion of the night we sailed 
was a violent change from the serenity and quiet we had en- 
joyed up to this time. The new people were seasick and they 
occupied all of our favorite corners in the social hall. And the 
place was crowded with people and babies and things. To Mr. 

and Mrs. H , who had occupied the saloon more than I, 

this was a serious matter. I lived on the upper deck princi- 
pally. And then, too, the babies cried at night ; but I was 
used to babies and loved them anyway, so that didn't trouble 
me either. And then it grew hotter every day as we approached 



12 AT SEA AGAIN. 

the equator. But I liked hot weather. And then there was 
some painting done on the steamer. But really and truly I do 
love the smell of fresh paint. All these things, however, com- 
bined tt> make the other people miserable, and I wonder now 
that they didn't crush me with my aggravating fondness for 
everything they considered so unpleasant. But they didn't! 
They quarrelled among themselves finally, and I sat at table 
surrounded by people who were at drawn swords with each 
other, while they were all on good terms with me. As they 
wouldn't speak to each other I had to bear the brunt of the gen- 
eral conversation. There was a tiny bit of a boy on board, the 
son of a captain, who talked learnedly of the "foksle" and 
nautical things generally in a baby prattle that was very fasci- 
nating. 

I found French very useful as a medium of communication 
with the Spanish ladies. Five days of intense heat taught me 
two Spanish words — " Mucha calor." I don't know how to 
spell them, but that is the way they sound, and when spoken in 
accents of suffering and despair the phrase is quite as express- 
ive as our "very hot." It was hot ! Red hot! Everything 
was hot. The saloon was hot, the deck was hot, the passengers 
were hot ; their tempers were likewise. 

One day we came across a number of huge turtles floating 
about in the ocean. A long-legged bird stood on one of these 
big creatures on one foot in a pensive manner and seemed to be 
enjoying the sail. He may have taken the turtle for a small 
island. Some of our sailors went out in a boat and caught sev- 
eral of the turtles while the engines were stopped to "key up." 
We had turtle soup without any mockery from there on. 

Through all the hot weather I accumulated avoirdupois, un- 
til the idea that I was traveling for my health became palpably 
absurd. I caught many incredulous glances in response to my 
plea of invalidism and was obliged to bolster up my word with 
sundry and various oaths and much impressive solemnity. 
The weather cooled gradually as we approached California, and 
while the other people rejoiced at our speedy arrival at San 
Francisco, I, with my usual contrariness, objected to arriving 
anywhere. To tell the J;ruth, I had a relapse into my old shy- 
ness about investigating new places. It was all very well talk- 
ing about taking care of myself when my arrival in a strange 



ARRIVAL. 13 

city was not to take place for two months. But now that it was 
imminent, I began to tremble in my boots and wish myself safe 
at home again. I tried to persuade the captain to turn the ship 
around and go back, and, failing in that, I asked him if he 
thought I could rent my stateroom by the year, as I had become 
attached to the sea. And so when we broke our "eccentric" 
three days before our arrival, and had to stop the engines for 
the day, and all the rest of the passengers were in dismay 
thereat, I rejoiced with my customary wickedness. But alas, 
all voyages, however pleasant, must have an end. And so, on 
a breezy cold night, we sailed through the Golden Gate and up 
the bay to the company's dock, where, after a good deal of 
hurry and confusion, and many, hoarse orders from the bridge, 
and equally hoarse responses from the wharf, we found our- 
selves, at midnight, on the 18th of April, at the end of our jour- 
ney. 



CALIFORNIA. 

Having made the much dreaded transfer from steamer to 
hotel successfully, my spirits rose again. At first I missed the 
motion and noise of the steamer, and felt totally lost in the 
vastness and solitude of a whole room after having lived fifty- 
four days in a luxurious but tiny cabin, and heartily wished 
myself back aboard ship among my friends and at sea. How- 
ever, I ventured out on a voyage of discovery; my end in view, 
the Post Office ; my ambition, letters. I walked home, and on 
my way I encountered a whole troupe of little Chinese children 
in green and red and purple and red dresses, and curious thick- 
soled embroidered and tip-tilted shoes, and neatly braided pig- 
tails. 

San Francisco is a city of hills, and very steep hills at that. 
Indeed some of the streets are so steep, in some parts of the city, 
that they have been laid in stairs. Glorious hills for coasting 
these would be if snow and ice were part of a Winter's pro- 
gramme here, which they are not. In San Francisco flowers 
bloom in the gardens the year round, and strawberries are al- 
ways in season. The small boys are not to be done out of their 
coasting entirely, however, and for sleds they substitute carts, 
consisting of four wheels and a fiat board, on which they dash 
down the hills to the imminent risk of life and limb. 

From the bay the city rises in a succession of terraces formed 
by the cross streets, the blocks of buildings appearing like so 
many steps to the top. From these terraces the houses ovei'look 
each other and the bay, which presents a bright and changeful 
picture with its ponderous men-of-war, stately ships, fast steam- 
ers, hurrying ferryboats, restless, fleet, and self assertive little 
tugs and white winged sailboats, and many other craft, ever 
present and active. Across the bay one sees an undulating line 
of hills, and in the middle distance Angel Island, with the 
Island of Alcatraz directly in front of it, from whose fortress 
and earthworks cannons command the bay and often fire salutes 
to foreign visitors as they come and go. 

In San Francisco the sun shines with unvarying brightness 
every day, from May till October. During this time not a drop 

U 



SAN FRANCISCO. 15 

of rain falls ; the mornings are often ushered in with fog, which 
lifts by nine o'clock, leaving the day warm and bright until 
noon, when a strong wind blows in from the sea, bringing with 
it a good deal of sand from the shore thereof. The gripmen on 
. the cable roads bound toward the beach find it necessary to 
cover their faces with double veils to protect their eyes from 
this sand ; and the householders wage eternal war with the dust, 
with the aid of a garden hose, carefully washing windows, 
doors, steps and walks, every morning regularly, which the 
wind as regularly recovers with sand and dust. About the first 
of October it comes on to rain for a day or two, which lays the 
dust, hardens the roads, and freshens things up generally, fol- 
lowed by the pleasantest, brightest, warmest season of the year, 
for the winds cease for a time. The next hard blow that comes 
on is likely to be a norther. It comes in mid December, usher- 
ing in what is called the rainy season, which means it will rain 
hard for two or three days, then rain or shine alternately two 
or three more days, then rain nights and shine brightly several 
more days, perhaps clear entirely for a few days, and then com- 
mence with a norther again, going through much the same pro- 
gramme, introducing by way of variety a cold spell, perhaps a 
hail storm and several frosty nights, through all of which the 
hills about array themselves in the green attire of Spring and 
the roses bloom with undiscouraged luxuriance in the yards 
and gardens. By March the weather settles into its customary 
brightness, only ruffled by an occasional shower, or perhaps a 
day or two of rain, in April or May. There is hardly a morn- 
ing in the year when a fire is not desirable, and hardly a day in 
the year that a fire is necessary all day. A small apartment is 
sufficiently heated almost any evening in the year by the gas 
used in lighting it. The houses are knobby with bay windows, 
and the sunshine is courted in every way possible, it being al- 
ways warm in the sun and always cold in the shade. 

It is really the most absurd climate that ever was in the 
world. "When you go out for a walk you always have to take a 
fur cloak and a lace parasol. You go along the street with the 
sun shining, and you think " What a beautiful Summer day it 
is, almost too warm." You turn a corner, and, whew ! an icy 
January wind strikes you. You shut up your parasol and put 
on your fur cloak, only to take it off again at the next corner. 



16 THE CLIFF HOUSE. 

It is perfectly ridiculous. Soft coal is burnt here, which fills 
the air with black smoke" and dust. You never know, when 
you are walking along the street, whether your face is clean or 
not. Nine times out of ten it has a black smudge on it. The 
city abounds in big hotels, one of which, the Palace, is the largest 
in the world. 

An old Calif ornian, who had been a shipmate of mine, turned 
up in a few days and told me of the places in and about San 
Francisco that were desirable to see. There were the Cliff 
House, Oakland, Chinatown, some big trees close by, besides 
those on the way to the Yosemite Valley, and some geysers. 
I commenced with a moonlight drive to the Cliff House, a most 
delightful and, I was told, a very improper sort of an excur- 
sion ; one that no lady will miss if she can possibly help it, or 
confess to except under bonds of strict secrecy. I confess I 
failed to discover the slightest impropriety in a very pleasant 
drive, on a bright night, to the sea, finished by a seat on the 
public balcony of a hotel with the broad ocean bathed in moon- 
light below. 

The Cliff House surmounts a steep palisade. Below it in the 
sea are a few large pointed rocks, and on the rocks are scores 
and scores of seals that keep up an incessant barking and growl- 
ing and splashing in and out of the water. Being anxious to 
see the seals and the sea by daylight, I found on inquiry that it 
was quite the correct thing to go there in the morning, and 
that there was nothing necessarily immoral about a trip out 
there alone on a cable car. Riding on the front seat of a cable 
car is almost as good as riding on the cowcatcher of a locomo- 
tive. There is nothing before you to cut off the view ; there 
are no tired, sharp-cornered horses to distract your attention 
from the scenery. You get the full benefit of the blustering 
wind as you ride along, and an unbroken vista of the road that 
is gliding up to you and beneath you rapidly and smoothly. 
At the terminus of the cable road you take a steam car, which, 
after winding around among some mammoth sand hills for fif- 
teen minutes, brings you out at last to the beach. The Pacific 
Ocean lies before you, glistening in the sunlight, or perhaps 
heaving gray and ominously under a lead-colored sky, while 
an insignificant black bit of iron, that you know to be an im- 
mense steamer with several blocks of staterooms on it and folks 



THE BIG TREES. 17 

enough aboard to make a city, is rolling and tossing in the 
most lonesome and helpless looking manner. Under these cir- 
cumstances one is apt to have a picture in one's mind of the 
unhappy seasick passengers and a vivid realization of the vast- 
ness and power of the ocean, while at the same time a sudden 
admiration is awakened for the skill and ingenuity of man, who 
builds and manipulates a vessel that is a mere atom tossing on 
the ocean, and yet goes steadily, on its designated course with 
little reference to wind or waves. 



One day I went, about two hours by train, to see some very 
large trees, which, with the help of some trees not as large, 
form a grove that is utilized as a picnic ground. One is not im- 
pressed at first sight with the immensity of these forest giants 
because the surrounding trees, while of varying size, are all 
very large so that the proportions are maintained. At a little 
distance you seem only to have some good-sized trees before you 
among some saplings. Coming to examine one of these sap- 
lings closely you discover, very much to your surprise, that it 
is considerably larger than an ordinary tree. Then what you 
had taken to be an ordinary tree turns out to be a giant. You 
find an opening at the root of a tree that you had at first set 
down as pretty large, as trees go, and then you discover you 
can walk into this tree through the opening without bending. 
Inside you find that when you stand in the center you can only 
just touch the walls on either side of you with a cane held at 
arm's length. Then you say that it is a large tree and no mis- 
take. You are conducted to the largest tree of the grove, which 
you are still inclined to look at with unappreciative eyes, but 
after measuring it by yourself and taking a walk around it, 
which you feel would do for a stroll before breakfast, you ad- 
mit that it is certainly a very large tree, and walk on through 
the grove with your sense of measurement thoroughly mysti- 
fied and an utter loss of confidence in your own eyesight, which 
causes you to forbear to speak of any tree you see as large or 
small until you have positive statements of other people re- 
garding its dimensions. 

From the grove one strolls naturally down to the river, over 
which one finds a bridge, composed of single narrow planks 



18 POVERTY FLAT — CHINATOWN. 

laid end to end, and supported on sticks stuck sawhorse fashion 
in the bed of the river. There is no hand rail, and altogether 
it is a giddy looking structure. On a tree near by I found 
posted up "The Rules and Regulations of the Bridge," which 
I copied : 

Rules and Regulations for Poverty Flat Bridge. 

I. — Any lady crossing this bridge faster than a walk will be fined 
five dollars. 

II. — The builders of this bridge will not be liable for any acci- 
dent that may result from two or more people attempting to 
cross this bridge at the same time from opposite directions. 

HL — Persons found criticising the architecture and construction 
of this bridge are notified to wade. . 

IV. — Not more than five people allowed to cross from both ends 
of this bridge at the same time. 

V. — It is positively prohibited for any person to drive more than 
one horse across this bridge at one time. 

VI. — It is strictly forbidden to alio w children under six months 
of age to walk across this bridge unaccompanied by their parents 
or guardians. 

N. B. — Any one wishing to construct a bridge like this can find 
plans and specifications at Poverty Flat Bar. 



I went through the Chinese quarter of San Francisco under 
the escort of an old Californian, reinforced by an officer in citi- 
zen's clothes. I must confess I was not particularly anxious to 
visit Chinatown, having heard much about the smells and dirt, 
but as I had been told that it was one of the most interesting 
features of the city, I went without demur, and was well paid 
for it, for I was very much interested by what I saw. 

Arriving at Chinatown, we found the streets thronged with 
Chinamen, here and there a Chinese woman, and frequently 
Chinese children — Chinese children who acted very much like 
white children, who cried and screamed and scolded and stamped 
their little feet when they were interfered with. Presently we 
went to a large building which was literally a human hive, for 
it was honeycombed with almost air-tight boxes in which whole 
families lived. Truly, I think the Chinese have found out to a 
dot the smallest amount of space, food and air necessary to sus- 



AN OPIUM DEN. 19 

tain human life. One subterranean apartment contained a very 
old man and woman and several cats and dogs. This room was 
too small for us three people to get in all at once, although the 
woman was on the bed and the man was squeezed in a corner 
and the animals under foot. So the Californian remained out- 
side the door and peeped in. He expressed himself as entirely- 
satisfied, however, with the whiff he got of the atmosphere from 
the door he was standing in, it being the only opening into the 
room. They have no chimneys ; their fires are made in a ket- 
tle over which they cook, the smoke therefrom making its escape 
from the room the best way it can, or remaining in it, usually 
the latter, I fancy. We did not stop to consider the question, 
but hastened to the comparatively fresh air of the courtyard 
above. The said courtyard was lined with the fire kettles of the 
inhabitants of the building. 

After this we went out of one dirty, ill-smelling and dark 
alleyway into another, our guide making ineffectual efforts to 
light 'our way with a candle. Our next visit is to an opium den, 
where we watch the operations of burning and preparing the 
drug for smoking, and eventually the smoking itself, which 
takes less time than is spent in getting it ready. The drug must 
needs be very fascinating, for the- place is anything but attrac- 
tive or savory. There were five of its votaries in this place. 
One had not begun, or had finished his siesta, for he sat up and 
eyed us. Two others were on a sort of bed together enjoying a 
social pipe. Another was sleeping the sleep of the just to all 
appearance, while the last one, whom we were watching, was 
taking solid comfort out of his careful preparation of the drug, 
and three whiffs, and more preparation followed by three more 
whiffs, which seems to be all the opium smoking amounts to. 
They lie on hard shelves, with a quilt over them and a block of 
wood for a pillow, in seemingly cramped attitudes. 

We left them in their paradise and went to a high-toned res- 
taurant where Chinese family dinner parties were given. A 
dinner was in progress at the time, the men dining and the wo- 
men and children forming an outside circle around them, 
through which the waiters had to break their way to serve the 
dinner. The women and children were laughing and chatting 
merrily. One pretty little Chinese maiden of about eight years 
was playing "bean porridge hot" in choice Chinese with a 



20 A CHINESE THEATBE. 

Chinese lady, with evident enthusiasm. A very pretty Chinese 
lady was in the outer rooni when we entered, looking in the 
glass and primping quite in the American style, until, being 
apparently satisfied with her personal appearance, she returned 
to the dining room. From here, having inspected a Chinese 
drum and -fiddle and tom-tom, the melodious strains of which 
had lured us from the street, we went up another alleyway into 
a room where a really pretty, finely featured Chinese girl was 
making cigarettes. We were introduced to her, as well as to 
another really pretty and altogether charming young girl, who 
laid herself out to be sociable and entertaining, and began by 
telling me I looked very nice, which compliment I returned 
with sincerity. I quite fell in love with this charming little 
lady, and would like to have had time to cultivate her, she seemed 
so bright and sociable and sweet. From there we went to a joss- 
house and observed the "gods," ending with Confucius, all 
surrounded with tinsel and paper flowers, and each being sup- 
plied with a bowl of tea in case they got thirsty in the night, and 
each having a glass with a burning wick floating in oil, sus- 
pended above him. 

From the josshouse we went to the theatre. To get there we 
had to go up winding stairs, and around corners, and through 
intricate passages until finally coming out via the common 
dressing room or green room (which reminded me forcibly of 
that picture on the drop curtain of a theatre in New York of the 
Roman Colisseum, with the actors preparing themselves and 
going out into the arena to act), onto the stage, where we sat at 
one side and watched the .performance. The play was appar- 
ently of a dime novel type, that is, "blood and thunder." But 
it reminded me decidedly of the " Merchant of Venice," being a 
long-drawn court room scene, the judge therein mercilessly 
ordering off to dungeons and finally sentencing to immediate 
death an unfortunate being who turns out to be his own son, a 
fact which seemed to grieve him very much when his attention 
was drawn to it. They talked very emphatically and grimace 
very energetically, and when any action occurs they go through 
it very deliberately. Men play the female parts, though they 
have one woman actress among them whom I saw behind the 
scenes. When they want to make some changes in dress they 
don't leave the stage ; three or four " supes " come and stand in 



SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA. 21 

a line in front of them while they go through a very deliberate 
transformation scene. This being done, the supes retire and the 
play continues. They paint very heavily and grotesquely, and 
when wearing false beards fasten the moustache to the lowest 
edge of the upper lip, which has a very peculiar effect. They 
sang part of the play, and when they were talking the tom-tom 
put a period to every paragraph. Chinese music, while it is un- 
doubtedly crude, is npt half as bad as it is said to be. So far 
from being driven away by it I rather liked it ; it is rather 
pleasing ; but what else could be expected of an unregenerate 
creature like me, who has the bad taste to like hand organs ? In 
short, Chinese music is better than no music at all. The floor 
of the auditorium of the theatre was packed to the doors with 
Chinamen. A corner of the balcony was reserved for the ladies. 
All seemed intensely interested in the play, though no applause 
or laughter or demonstration of fany kind came from the audi- 
ence. We tore ourselves away from the melodious cadences of 
the mellifluous tom-tom, took a peep at the rooms of a secret 
society, saw some beautiful carving, and bade good-bye to Chi- 
natown. 

With the idea of seeing something of southern California, I 
re-engagedr my old stateroom on the Santa Rosa, which has 
taken its place in the P. C. S. S. Company's line, and leaves the 
city every ten days for San Diego and intermediate ports. 

It seemed at once homelike and strange to me to get back to the 
familiar deck and cabin where I had lived through fifty-four 
happy, changeful days ; strange, because the once roomy decks 
and saloons are now swarming with passengers. The quiet 
that once reigned is now broken by the hasty chatter of parting 
friends and the buzz of the donkey engine as it slings aboard 
heavy cargo, while the porters keep a stream of smaller boxes 
sliding down a gangway. With a final burst of exertion and 
profanity, mingled with the clanging of the gong that warns 
the visitors ashore, the hatches are closed, the gangways re- 
moved, and the finest steamer on the coast moves slowly away 
from the wharf. While the crowd on the decks wave their 
handkerchiefs to the crowd on the wharf, the vessel swings out 
into the stream and takes her way around Telegraph Hill, past 
the Island of Alcatraz, out through the picturesque fort com- 
manded Golden Gate, past the Cliff House and the Seal Rocks, 



22 SANTA BARBARA. 

across the harbor bar, where the seasickly inclined conclude to 
retire, and on down the coast. 

We reach Santa Barbara early the following evening. Here 
I desert the ship and betake myself to the Arlington Hotel, said 
to be the finest in the West. Santa Barbara is a resort for inva- 
lids. It is as much like an eastern aristocratic village as any- 
thing they have in California. In a drive about one sees many 
beautiful residences set in prettily laid oul^grounds. 

Coming unheralded and alone as I do, I am the object of the 
largest amount of curiosity. Every one asks, " Who is she ?" 
"Where did she come from ? " and "What is she doing here ? " 
As the people these questions are put to know almost as much 
about me as the questioner, there is a good deal of dissatisfac- 
tion floating around. An old Californian and sea captain here 
drove me about to see the place, including a big hog ranch and the 
Santa Barbara Mission Church. This old building is a relic of 
the early days when only the Spanish monks had their homes 
here and made some effort to reclaim the savages from heathen- 
ism. The monks still keep the Mission and exhibit some very 
old and correspondingly vile pictures and relics. I am afraid 
the clean little pink-and-white piglings, running around in the 
bright California sunshine in the broad fields, interested me 
more than the cold, dark, musty church, with its hideous pic- 
tures of the judgment day, where the horned devils and imps 
were hastening the doomed sinners into the yawning pit and sea 
of fire with pitchforks. Such pictures were well suited to the 
savages' taste for burning and torturing their enemies, but are 
too crude and brutal for these times. 

Acting under an old resident's advice, I go to the stage office 
and secure the box seat on the stage which leaves at half past 
six to-morrow morning for the other side of the mountains that 
form a background for Santa Barbara. 



A STAGE RIDE. 

Los A t.am os, May 28th. — Ye gods ! Sixty miles on the box 
seat of a stage coach at one sitting. Eleven hours for one drive 
was pretty steep — so were the mountains. We flew around 
winding roads, mountains straight up on one side, valley 
straight down on the other, curves both abrupt and steep. 
"Yuba Bill " said there was room for two coaches to pass each 
other most of the way, but it didn't look so, and I shouldn't care 
to try it. Oh, what a glorious ride. Four horses and a good 
hard road, with such a view from the mountain top. On one 
hand, beyond the long slope to the sea, Santa Barbara and the 
glancing ocean itself ; on the other, such rich, green hillsides and 
valleys ! A day brilliant and beautiful beyond description, ther- 
mometer at the exact degree of heat most desirable, and no wind. 

The driver introduced me to one of the passengers, whom he 
graciously permitted to sit beside me part of the way, there be- 
ing room enough for three where there was easy driving. This 
passenger whiled the hours of ascent by imparting to me 
some information about the country. He went back into the 
coach on the down grade very reluctantly, and even my earnest 
sympathy failed to console him for the loss of that outside seat. 
We took up one woman on the way who talked in a shrill satir- 
ical voice from the moment she struck the coach until we 
dropped her at a convenient post office. We changed horses 
three times, and took a simple but neat and delicious lunch at a 
place in the mountains. A post office and a hotel of the most 
primitive kind make a city back in the mountains. A double 
team is equivalent to a town. 

I dazzled the other passengers with my chatter, and then, 
having dropped them one by one in various stages of bewilder- 
ment along the way, my spirits rising with each deposit, I de- 
voted my whole soul to reducing "Yuba Bill " to a chaotic mass 
of admiration. All my funniest stories and the latest New York 
slang were trotted out for his amusement. Consequence, the 
last two hours, the "tiredest" part of the drive flew by like 
minutes, as we came clattering through the valley, laughing and 
talking like two old comrades. "Yuba Bill" isn't a "Yuba 
Bill." He's more of a "Jeff Briggs," pleasant and modest. 

33 



24 A BEAUTIFUL COUNTRY. 

This is a lovely country for farming. Think of twenty-nine 
thousand acres in one farm. Then take breath and think of 
sixty thousand acres in one farm. Take more breath and think of 
thirty miles in one farm. And what a beautiful, beautiful, 
beautiful country ! 

I'm most dead to-night from the jar and jolting. I think 
probably to-morrow will finish me. I am the only woman in 
this hotel. The landlord received me from the box seat and 
whisked me out of sight of the curious spectators into a tolerably 
comfortable room. There he left me to remove the dust of 
travel, returning for me shortly to take me down to supper, 
where he made himself as entertaining as possible. He took 
me to the parlor afterwards, and after lighting the lamp and 
opening the organ, left me to my own devices. I played 
and sang until I thought I heard the other boarders making 
preparations for flight, and then went to my room and to 
bed, entirely satisfied with my day's work, and was soothed 
to sleep by the singing of Moody and Sankey hymns some- 
where in the immediate neighborhood. Was called in the 
morning by the polite landlord, escorted to breakfast and bes- 
towed carefully on the box seat at half -past six, for my return 
journey. 

May 29th. — Back again sixty miles, one hundred and twenty 
miles in two days. On the return trip I admired in detail the 
beauty of the country that I could only take in in general at 
the first sight. It was raining until ten o'clock ; that is, I 
called it rain, but the driver said it was only fog. This time we 
had two men, a woman, a perfect shrew, and three children for 
inside passengers. The woman divided her time between re- 
counting her sufferings from an injured limb and its treatments 
in the key of x, and saying " shut up" to her children in the 
key of y sharp. Arriving at our lunching place, she gave me 
several sharp, vixenish looks of curiosity, but failing to elicit 
any responsive interest from me, gave me up. Winding up 
through the mountains the sun was bright and it was dry 
again, but we could see the fog drifting through between the 
mountains into the valley from the sea. Blown by the wind, 
it very much resembled smoke, and was a pretty sight. All 
the way along were brilliant wild flowers, and we saw squirrels 
and lizards constantly. 



HUMOR AND SLA'SQ. 25 

The driver, who by the way turned out to be "Bill," just 
Bill, "plain, simple, ordinary Bill," picked flowers for me as 
they came within his reach, and took his turn at story telling-. 
He came here from Boston, a sailor around the Horn, twenty- 
nine years ago, has driven stages ever since. He is the first 
natural man that* I have seen since I've been in Santa 
Barbara County, excepting the retired sea captain who advised 
this trip. There is so much affectation and effort to be enter- 
taining and funny here. He is good looking, with a contagious 
laugh. His face would make his fortune on the theatrical 
stage, with its mixture of expressions of stubborn independence, 
contempt for snobbery, and natural good humor. The general 
effect, taken with the twinkle of his eyes, was comic in the 
extreme. Nearing the end of my return journey, he confided 
to me how he had "been sold" on me. He had been told a lady 
had engaged the front seat. Had expressed himself more 
forcibly than elegantly on the subject of being talked to death 
by some "old hen." Had driven up to the " Arlington" with 
the determination to be as dumb as an oyster the whole way. 
Had been "sort of struck by lightning " when he saw me come 
out, but hated to give in. I had noticed that • he wore a very 
severe air when the coach drove up, and my spirits fell a trifle. 
But he thawed out in about ten minutes, and before the end of 
the journey he voted me the jolliest kind of a girl. The end of 
the second day he suggested that since I liked staging I should 
go back again the next day. 

As far as slang and humor and originality go, I am very 
much afraid that California is deteriorating. I never saw such 
a gossipy, correct, well behaved, precisely speaking lot of people 
in all my life. Even "Bill " spoke the best Massachusetts Eng- 
lish. I, a New Yorker, am striking California " cold " with my 
originality, independence, and slang. I am a heroine in this 
house for having taken that trip across the mountains. Am 
complimented on my daring by the gentlemen. The ladies are 
shocked into a state of admiration. They say they " would like 
to take that trip, but it would kill " them. And they don't see 
how I ' ' dare " travel alone, and they ' ' never saw any one like " 
me in all their lives. The idea of my taking a sixty mile stage 
ride for my health is greeted with ridicule and scorn. 



YOSEMITE. 

I left San Francisco at 3:30 P. M. June 10th, arriving at 
Stockton by rail the same evening. Part of the way was 
through water-covered meadows, reminding me of that story 
called " Afloat in the Forest," for there were trees growing right 
up out of vast sheets of water. The rest of the way was through 
freshly plowed ground, covered with rabbits that took flight as 
we came along. For quite a distance you could see a line of 
skurrying rabbits, with an occasional one, less nervous than the 
rest, sitting bolt upright and listening with its heart in its ears ; 
but as we came along, it too would succumb to terror and out- 
leap all the rest in its frantic efforts to escape the imagined 
pursuer. 

I arrived at 8:30 with a carriage load of ladies and babies, one 
of whom, a mite of a girl of three or four years, informed me, 
after apologizing for crowding me, that it was "hard" on her 
to be up so late, as she was accustomed to going to bed at half- 
past seven ; and that she was very much fatigued ; and that she 
had a doll that was not at all fatigued, in her grandmama's trunk. 

In the morning a train took me on to Milton, where at about 
ten o'clock A. M. a stage took me to Copperopolis, where, again, 
another stage took possession of me and carried me on toward the 
mountains. As I was the only passenger on these stages, there 
was no one to dispute possession with me of the high box seat. 
The latest driver being a strikingly handsome man with an 
angelic smile, my satisfaction is complete. For a time the road 
lies over level ground, but later begins to rise at a gentle slope. 
We pass Table Mountain, which plays an important part in one 
of Bret Harte's stories, and the Tuolumne and Stanislaus 
rivers, made familiar by many allusions in the works of that 
popular author, as well as by Mark Twain. 

At " Chinese Camp " we take up a party of four, en route for 
the Yosemite, who have just made a detour to " Murphy's " to 
see the big trees of the Tuolumne grove. 

Immediately after leaving ' ' Chinese Camp " we begin to 
ascend the mountains in earnest. The bright morning has 
departed, and after a slow clouding up and an ominous sprinkle 



"IT NEVER KAINS IN CALIFORNIA." 27 

or so it sets in to rain with a will. This raining in the middle 
of June is in defiance of all the protestations and assurances 
that have been made by Calif ornians, that ' ' It never rains in 
California, at least not at this season of the year." I am forced, 
after a little, to vacate my high and unprotected seat and climb 
into the interior of the coach, where, with curtains down, I and 
the four new passengers sit and chat and make every effort to 
keep ourselves dry and jolly. 

It transpires that it has been raining steadily back here for 
four weeks, and the roads are something terrible ; the horses 
sink above their knees in the mud at every step, and this, added 
to the long steep hills, makes our progress slow. The road 
winds up the mountain, a deep gorge dropping suddenly at our 
side, down which the Stanislaus river rushes turbulently. 

Our stage is drawn by six fine horses, and we change them 
frequently. We reach "Priest's" just before dark, where we 
find a warm fire, good supper and comfortable accommodations 
for the night. 

An outcoming party arrives at about nine P. M. , half frozen 
and wholly drenched, whose painfully vivid description of snow 
and mud blocked roads and cold, rainy weather in the valley, 
so discourages the party with me that they decide to remain at 
Priest's until the weather is better. 

I woke up at four in the morning ; the coach was to start at 
five. The rain was coming down in torrents. I was warm and 
comfortable and sleepy. I said I would not go on to-day. 
Rubbers I have not, my waterproof reposeth peacefully in the 
bottom of my trunk in San Francisco, and I am not fond of 
wading in snow. I listened pensively. The rain stopped ab- 
ruptly ; then I heard a little bird singing. I said to myself : 
"It will clear off," bounced out of bed, flung on my clothes, 
flew out to the coach, ordered a five-story trunk to be taken off 
of my front seat, paid for the drinks, and, having half per- 
suaded driver and landlady and interested bystanders that it 
really was going to clear off and that the rest of the passengers 
were doomed to unbounded chagrin at the beautiful day on 
which they had given up their journey, departed defiant and 
triumphant. At the next halfway house, however, we took up 
a party of three pretty girls, their father and little brother, all 
as determined as I to push on to the valley. 



28 YOSEMITE. 

The rain continued to pour down in torrents, but I clung to 
the box seat in spite of it, for it had a kind of hood which pro- 
tected me and the driver a little. This driver was very nice and 
kind, and covered me up to the chin with blankets and canvass 
coats to keep me dry. 

After several long drawn and desperate struggles with mud 
and the laws of gravitation, oh ! glorious climb it of Califor- 
nia ! we reached the summit twelve thousand feet above the 
level of the sea. We found the summit covered with, I am 
afraid to say how many feet of snow. We were now obliged to 
leave the cOach and pile into a big sled. We rode three miles 
in this coverless sled in a driving sleet, and I had brought my 
duster and a straw hat. The snow rose in white walls on either 
side above the heads of the men standing upon the sled. The 
road was a succession of sharp apexes and deep cuts. After 
toiling wearisomely to the top of a short hill, getting stuck often 
and having to be dug out, we would come like lightning down 
the other side, bringing iip with such a thump at the bottom 
that people and cushions and robes fell violently with one ac- 
cord off the seats. Fancy, sleighriding on the 12th of June. 

When we reached the end of the snow we took to a stage 
again, and as it was raining hard and I was drenched and numb 
with cold, I meekly yielded up that choice box seat, I had clung 
to so far and so tenaciously, and climbed into the very center of 
the coach, a piece of weakness I shall regret forever and for- 
ever, for presently it brightened a little and we began our grand 
but terrific descent into this beautiful valley, set in the heart of 
the mountains. 

The Yosemite is beyond anything any one can imagine in beauty 
and grandeur. That is all one can say. We come upon the 
Valley very suddenly, and the coach drew up for a moment on 
the ledge of the road at " Inspiration Point" for us to take a 
general observation. 

Thousands of feet below us lies a green and placid valley, 
eight miles long and three broad, while around it rise abrupt 
walls of gray granite, varying from one to four thousand feet 
. in height, and surmounted by lofty snow-crowned peaks and 
domes. The verdure of the valley, richer and greener for the 
continuous rain, climbs half way up the palisade, and then the 
gray walls tower naked toward the sky. As we drive briskly 



BEAUTIFUL AND GRAND. 29 

down the grade, which is a narrow road winding along the face 
of the palisade, so narrow indeed that the coach seems peril- 
ously near the precipice that yawns at its side, while from the 
other side rises abruptly the granite wall, the driver points out 
and names the most prominent features. The graceful spread- 
ing waterfall across the valley, with the white mist rising up 
about it, is the Bridal Veil. And this white, thread-like fall on 
this side is called " White Horse Tail." The three cone-shaped 
cliff points rising one above the other are the " Three Sisters," 
and those delicate, castle-like formations are known as " Cathe- 
dral Spires ; " while away yonder, looming high above the 
palisades at the other end of the valley, is the great " Half 
Dome," a snow-crowned, sharply-cut mass of stone ; and be- 
fore us rises a majestic palisade of granite, rising sheer three 
thousand feet, the most imposing in the valley, "El Capitan." 

Our six horses are taking us at a rattling pace down the nar- 
row, precipitous zigzag ledge. The leaders skirt the very edge 
of this terrific chasm as we turn sharp corners in a manner that 
is at once delightful and terrifying. If a leader should miss his 
footing or a break occur, trivial under other circumstances, we 
should be hurled over this frightful precipice to a fearful death. 
Both driver and horses are familiar with their business, how- 
ever, and nothing occurs to mar the sublimity and grandeur of 
the scene. We reach the placid green valley through which 
the Merced River runs, a peaceful stream, while the rain 
drenched foliage is glittering under the last rays of the sun so 
lately emerged from the storm clouds. 

With the morning dawns the first fair day that has been seen 
in the valley for four straight weeks, and having rather enjoyed 
my severe experiences with mud and snow, on the whole, I am 
very glad I hastened on. I go to see the sun rise on Mirror 
Lake, in fact several sunrises, for as fast as the sun climbs above 
the palisades one has only to move closer to the shadowing 
wall to hide it again from sight, and then wait again for it 
to rise. 

The reflection in the lake, of hill and sun and sky and forest, 
is very perfect and clear. A venerable Indian brings a cor- 
net and executes some fearful notes that are echoed with excru- 
ciating fidelity to the original agony, and we return to the hotel 
to prepare for another excursion. 



30 A PERILOUS CLIMB. 

We find a train of donkeys and small climbing horses 
waiting saddled for the party, for, once in the valley, I go 
with the troops of people that are going here and there. A 
guide is engaged to lead a detachment of tourists hither and 
thither, each one pays his two or three dollars and joins the 
excursion. If there are ladies alone the guide places 
them in line next himself where he can lead their horses if they 
are timid or goad the animals if they prove lazy. 

The party starts off with a gallop to the foot of the cliffs, 
and then climbs a winding horseback trail, a ledge varying 
from two to three feet in width. The view of the valley is 
exquisite. As you go up you hardly dare look back or down, 
but if you do have the courage, the beauty of the scene is some- 
thing never to be forgotten. I found it lovely beyond descrip- 
tion, though serious doubts about ever getting down again, as 
we climb higher and higher up this dizzy trail, would obtrude 
themselves on my mind. 

Half way up a halt was called, and all dismounted to look 
from an overhanging ledge on the scene below, while the horses 
were ungirthed and allowed a breathing spell. When we re- 
sumed our saddles we continued upward in steeper, narrower, 
and shorter zigzags, until we reached the top, where we got a 
good lunch, warmed ourselves at a good fire, and climbed a path 
that led out to the jutting cliff known as Glacier Point, and, after 
a brief rest on a veranda that overlooked a part of the valley 
commanding a fine view of the Vernal Falls, got into our sad- 
dles again and commenced the descent. 

Once more we look from giddy heights on the beautiful 
scene ; once more we note the points of interest in this exquisite 
picture, Cloud's Rest, Half Dome, Cathedral Spires and El 
Capitan rise in lofty majesty before our eyes true to their 
names in stature and in form. Two seasons are before one's 
eyes at the valley. Winter reigns cold and bleak on the frown- 
ing, snow-clad granite, while below the luxuriant foliage is 
bathed in the sunshine of Summer. 

Going up is a dizzy operation, but coming down — oh, my ! 
What delicious sensations run down your spine when your 
horse ambles calmly down an abrupt declivity to the edge of a 
precipice and gazes pensively, perhaps admiringly, down a few 
thousand feet into the valley below; or when he trots contentedly 



A DIZZY DESCENT. 31 

along on the outside edge of the ledge and you hear the gravel 
from his hoofs clattering over the edge and down, until the 
clinking sound is lost in the distance. The horses are very 
gentle and sure-footed and decline to be guided; the safest way 
is not to try to guide them. They walk as near the edge as 
possible, to frighten you, I think, into getting off and walking, 
which many people do. I can outmule any horse I ever saw, 
so I declined to get down. I went up to have my blood run 
cold, and it did. But I couldn't help being amused at the other 
people. There was a woman who was frightened to death be- 
cause her horse kept so close to the edge. She exclaimed and 
fretted all the time in this vein : 

" Oh, I am so frightened ! Oh, my horse is turning his tail 
around to the edge. Oh, dear, how shall I ever get down again ? 
Guide, did you ever see any one so foolish as I am ? I make so 
much fuss I know. I am very foolish." 

" Oh no, ma'am, you don't make much fuss. You're only a 
little nervous. " 

"I know I make a great deal of fuss, but I can't help it. 
Oh, guide, he's turning his tail around ! " 

There was one man with terra cotta hair and mustache and 
gloves, on a while mule. The horses that carried fat women 
up groaned all the way. Mine sighed plaintively. On the 
way it snowed and rained and shone brightly by turns. 
Still, I could spend several weeks in this valley, or all Sum- 
mer, with a great deal of pleasure. 

With many a backward glance on the valley and its pictur- 
esque walls, we climb the winding road once more, and plung- 
ing at once into the forest, resume our struggle with mud and 
gravitation. 

Up to Priest's the roads were something frightful. Many 
times it seemed as if we were surely going over, the ruts were 
so deep. The horses were in mud half way above their 
knees. We reached Priest's again after a pleasant day's jour- 
ney only getting stuck once in the snow and walking a little 
way. 

On the return we left Chinese Camp in a carriage at four 
o'clock in the morning with the overflow from the stage which 
was ambitiously trying to carry the consolidated passengers of 
three stages. At Copperopolis we had breakfast, after which 



32 A STAGE LOAD. 

we, with the passengers of still another stage, were all crammed 
into and onto one stage. Eleven on top and nine inside. 
My driver looked after me nicely ; made me a nice bed of mail 
bags in the center on top, which was the easiest place on the 
coach. I reclined comfortably at my ease and enjoyed the 
agony and efforts to hang on of the people who had seats, for 
though this was the best part of the road it was jolty enough. 
We finally reached Milton in various stages of demoralization, 
where I took the train ; stopping at Stockton for lunch, in bril- 
liant spirits, well pleased with my trip, as I ought to be, for I 
was taken excellent care of from one end of the journey to the 
other by agents, hotel keepers, fellow travelers and drivers, as 
it seems to be my fate to be wherever I go. And so ends my 
delightful trip to the Valley of the Yosemite. 



THE GEYSERS. 

There is a short ride on the railroad from San Francisco and 
then a stage ride to reach the Geysers. Instead of the stage we 
took a team and drove over just ahead of the stage, a three 
hours' drive. The road is very narrow and winds in and out 
of the mountains, turning the sharpest corners on the edge of 
the steepest precipices. These corners are so sharp and so fre- 
quent that you come "slap" onto another team before you 
can see it, and you usually meet a team just in the very worst 
place for turning out on the road. This we managed to do 
twice that day ; once in going and once in coming back. We 
were driving along as nicely as could be when we whipped 
around the corner and there was the return stage. Well, we 
paused and considered, and there was an eloquent flow of lan- 
guage for five or ten minutes ; then we got out and " clum " a 
perpendicular bank, while the carriage was hauled and 
squeezed around the outside edge of that stage ; then we drove 
on and left the two opposing stages to get around each other 
and exhort their horses and " cuss" the road and the man who 
made it and his family at large. 

Reaching the Geyser Hotel, we shed our dusters and over- 
coats and start for a walk among the Geysers, stopping at the 
gate to select a stick for a cane. And you need a cane, for 
after going down a little hill you begin to climb, and from that 
on you climb up and climb down steep declivities, rocky paths, 
steps of board and earth and rock, all equally steep, difficult, 
slippery and dangerous ; for they lead you in and around and 
among holes in the ground where a hot steam comes hissing 
out, and you get a number of involuntary steam and sulphur 
baths before your walk is finished. The ground is mostly sul- 
phur in spots, and soda in other spots, and I don't know what 
else, but it's white and yellow and green, and all the while you 
hear the steam hissing out of the holes and hear the water 
bubbling below ; and here and there is a large open hole with 
water in it boiling away in the most violent manner, and 
scattering drops of boiling water out and making a great fuss 
about it all the time. Sometimes the path leads you across an 

33 



34 A WARM PLACE. 

open well of boiling water, on a plank, and one part of your 
walk takes you right through the hot sulphurous steam that is 
escaping with a great deal of fuss from the bank at one side of 
the narrow ledge, while on the other side you can look down a 
steep declivity into the boiling brook below. It is hot about 
there and reminds one some what forcibly of the " seething gates 
of hell," or words to that effect. You feel very much as if you were 
walking on the lid of a boiling cauldron, and that is just about 
what you are doing. In many places the ground, or rather the 
sulphur and soda and ashes, you walk on is hot, sometimes wet 
with boiling water. After this walk one is inclined to sit down 
and rest and reflect on the peculiarities of this world we live on. 

Returning to the hotel, Ave dine and rest a little, and after- 
wards interview a monkey who is chained in a small inclosure. 
A gentleman held out his hand and the monkey shook hands 
with him ; then I held out my hand and his monkeyship took a 
finger in both paws and proceeded to bite it, and seemed to be 
quite offended, chattering at me resentfully, when I snatched it 
away. Fortunately I had my glove on, so the teeth did not 
penetrate the skin, but the little animal left a mark which is 
sore and swollen for a day or two. 

We start back without waiting for the afternoon stage, as they 
tell us it will be an hour or more before it gets in, but we meet 
the incoming stage in the very first and worst bad place on the road. 
We try to squeeze past and get jammed together, and plenty of 
objurgation follows ; everybody but myself gets out and con- 
siders the situation. Remarks are made about what ought to 
have been done ; and the character and antecedents of the man 
who told us the stage wouldn't be along for an hour are dis- 
cussed with much freedom and emphasis ; and finally by lifting 
the carriage a little and driving up a step and studying the 
situation, and lifting and driving up another step, and unfasten- 
ing this and that, and fastening up again, and bringing much 
science and energy, and all the "cuss words " in the language to 
bear, we squeeze by and all is plain sailing for the rest of the 
trip. These mountain roads are very pretty and interesting 
and exciting, and after them ordinary driving seems rather 
tame. 



THE SANDWICH ISLANDS. 

It seemed very strange to be setting out upon so long a Toy- 
age without a friend to see me off, but so it happened. My 
former shipmates were all absent from the city, and my stays in 
San Francisco had been so intermittent and fleeting, and so 
occupied by preparations for further excursions, that I had not 
got much acquainted with any of the residents. I was rather 
glad, on the whole, that it was so, for now I was forced to at- 
tend to the details of tickets and embarking myself, and to find 
out how I should really get on quite alone. I found this easier, 
and pleasanter, perhaps, than it would be in New York or Bos- 
ton, for although San Francisco is an active and enterprising 
city, its business men are not yet too overwhelmingly busy to be 
very polite to a lady, or to make some extra effort to be helpful 
to her. The clerk in the 0. S. S. Oo.'s office took me to look at 
the vessel I wished to sail in, showed me my proposed state- 
room, bespoke for me every attention from the stewards, and 
was generally very kind. 

At last, on July 15th, I stood on the deck of the Alameda, 
as she moved out into the stream, alone and an utter stranger to 
the many people around me, each of whom had been sur- 
rounded by friends who were now waving encouraging hand- 
kerchiefs to them from the dock. Amid all the hubbub attend- 
ant on a departing steamer, the solitude of a desert reigned in 
my heart. I placed my camp chair in a sheltered corner by the 
wheel house, and looked at the people walking in couples up 
and down the deck and at the sights of the bay, now grown 
somewhat familiar to me. I kept my seat on deck until long 
after we had passed out of the Golden Gate and the vessel 
was heaving in a way that threatened seasickness to some 
of us. 

I was placed at the purser's table, and was introduced by that 
agreeable officer to the people sitting next me, and was suffi- 
ciently amused by the chatter of those around me. As I became 
acquainted I found the captain dignifiedly jovial, the purser 
amiably talkative, and the chief engineer genial and hand- 
some. 

35 



36 THE ALAMEDA. 

The Alameda is a very well arranged vessel. The dining 
saloon is large and well lighted, the staterooms very comfort- 
able and commodious, and the decks broad. The dining saloon 
and social hall are just amidships, the engine away aft, while 
the staterooms are forward of the saloons, thus being free from 
smell or noise of machinery. 

After a day of seasickness people began to come out of their 
cabins and be sociable. I think the sea rather arouses one's 
social qualities. I found another young lady on board, who, 
like me, was going alone to Honolulu, and we presently frater- 
nized. We spent most of the time on deck, for the sea was 
smooth and the weather fine and growing warmer daily. 

My old friends, the flying fish, were again to be seen skim- 
ming from beneath the vessel's bow as we sped on, and schools 
of porpoises floundered and flopped out of the water in their 
haste to get along, while whales spouted in the distance, show- 
ing now and then a glistening acre or so of back, as they rose 
to the surface. 

Nothing can be lazier or more care free than this life at mid- 
ocean. No wonder that sea voyages are recommended to re- 
store health to invalids from overworked brains. The fresh air, 
the sunshine, and the enforced indolence are at once restful and 
stimulating. At night the foam, cresting the waves as we cut 
swiftly through the water, turned to a bright phosphorescent 
glow. And we were hushed to sleep by the sound of the water 
washing the steamer's sides, a soft breeze humming through the 
latticed door, and a distant muffled thud of machinery. The 
officer's regular tread on the bridge and the half hourly ringing 
of the bells chime well with the other sounds, and withal one 
sleeps like a top and wakes m the morning light of heart and 
hungry. 

When one gets tired of doing nothing and has no soul for the 
beauty and grandeur of the great ocean, one can turn to the 
ship's library, make up a card party or listen to the musi- 
cians at the piano, of which there are usually plenty, good and 
bad. 

It grows warmer daily until, on the seventh morning at 
sea, we wake to swelter in a sultry heat, and to see a long low 
strip of land fringed by cocoanut trees with fluffy tops, all bent 
in one direction by the vociferous "trader" ; a sharply cut 



HONOLULU. 37 

peak rising in the background ; and presently we are made fast 
at the wharf of Honolulu. 

I bade good-bye to my compagnons de voyage, surrendered 
my trunks and keys to an expressman, was confided to a carriage 
by the ship's doctor, and so reached the hotel without any of the 
anticipated difficulties. I went to bed and to sleep, from which 
I was awakened from time to time by the arrival of my trunks, 
next my keys, and finally the housemaid, solicitous for my 
welfare ; then I was permitted to sleep, which I did in a most 
emphatic manner till it was time to dress for dinner. Went to 
bed at half -past nine, waking up this morning at seven, after a 
solid night's sleep, as sleepy as ever. I suppose it is the effect 
of the climate. The weather is hot but there is a strong breeze 
blowing constantly, which keeps it comfortable. The hotel is 
situated pleasantly in a kind of grove of banana, orange, 
mango, and other varieties of trees. My window, or rather 
door, opens on a porch that faces the mountains, 6,000 feet 
high. Beside the front porch there are two banana trees, each 
with an immense bunch of green bananas growing on it. Only 
one bunch of bananas grows on a tree, and then they cut it and 
another grows. 

Carriage hire here is ten cents by law ; drivers ask from a 
dollar and a half to four or five dollars, and you pay twenty- 
five cents. It is said that if you offer them the legal ten cents, 
they return it with the considerate suggestion that you might 
need it. From the observatory on the top of the hotel you get 
a fine view of the city, the surrounding country, the sea and the 
king's palace, which is close by. 

I had fancied that in going to the Sandwich Islands, I was 
going to an uncivilized, heathen place. Imagine then my dis- 
appointment at finding an ordinary looking city, with pave 
ments and electric lights and telephones all over the place. 
Actually, I have not since found a place where the telephone 
was in such general use. People telephoned invitations to 
visit or ride, and telephoned when they were ready, when about 
to start ; and when they arrived, they telephoned home to that 
effect, and so on. 

The natives are very dark, and of a large, fleshy build. The 
women are even more inclined to fleshiness than the men, 
and magnificent creatures they look, in their flowing ' ' holokus. " 



38 LIVE CANNIBALS. 

The "holoku" is the native dress for the women, and is in 
point of fact a simple Mother Hubbard gown. Usually this 
gown forms the entire toilet, but as it completely envelopes 
them from head to heels, and the climate is warm, it is both 
proper in appearance and comfortable in effect, as well as be- 
coming. The natives are a very genial, happy, affectionate 
people. I see boys of all ages conducting themselves toward 
each other in the affectionate manner peculiar to school girls, 
and in driving one meets along the street occasionally a man 
and a woman walking with arms about each other, school-girl 
fashion. Perhaps the most significant commentary on the 
peaceful and affectionate character of the Hawaiians is the com- 
mon greeting that is used in place of our "How do you do ? " 

In meeting and in parting, or in passing on the street these 
people say "Aloha," which means simply "love" or "love to 
you." 

I've seen some real live cannibals walking along the street, that 
eat folks now, when they get a chance. They are brought here 
from some other island to work. Not long ago they got into a 
quarrel among themselves, and one man getting killed, they ate 
him rather than waste him. So it is said. 

There are plenty of niosquitos at Honolulu, and the cock- 
roaches are as large as mice, and disposed to lunch, I am in- 
formed, on the hard, protective surfaces of the human pedal ex- 
tremities. 

This climate is probably the loveliest in the world. It is 
pretty hot for two or three hours in the morning, but not red- 
hot like New York ; at noon a breeze springs up and blows 
quite violently until seven or eight next morning, making it 
just pleasantly cool. So boisterously does the wind blow, rat- 
tling windows, slamming doors, swaying trees, and howling 
and whistling around corners, that it makes one think of March 
and imagine it must be cold outside in that blustering gale, 
which is, however, not the case. If you open a window or 
door it will sweep through and slam and blow everything about, 
but for all its howling and bluster, it is a warm wind that fans 
your cheek so rudely, and has but recently left the region of 
the equator. It rains, off and on, all day in a mild drizzle, but 
the sun shines all the time and no one notices the rain. You 
can see it raining through the sun on the mountains most 



KIND ATTENTIONS. 39 

of the time, with sometimes five or six rainbows in full 
bloom. 

It is not so easy to travel alone as one might think, in fact, 
it is nearly, if not quite, impossible, for there are so many other 
travelers that you are necessarily in company most of the 
time, and then fellow passengers, ship's officers, hotel mana- 
gers vie with each other m giving all the information and aid 
possible to a lady. I am everywhere assisted by kindly people, 
in spite of all resolutions on my part to act for myself and bother 
no one. Perhaps the pleasantest part of it all is in feeling that 
this kindness is not thought a bother by these pleasant people, 
but is done with all the evidences of sincere pleasure in extend- 
ing such politeness to a fellow creature. My experience here is 
only a sample of the kindness very generally shown me. 

Having slept through nearly forty-eight hours, I am finally 
seized with an energetic fit and array myself preparatory to 
starting out on a voyage of discovery. First, I consult the 
gentlemanly clerk. Does he know where the 0. S. S. Co.'s 
office is ? And if so, will he kindly point out the direction for 
me to start out ? He knows, and with my permission he will 
walk that way with me. I say "That will be very nice if I am 
not interfering with business." He: "On the contrary," etc. 
It is very hot, had we not better ride ? No, I should be sorry 
to have him sustain a sunstroke on my account, but I have 
been asleep for two days and am in search of exercise, so we 
walk to the 0. S. S. Co.'s office. I secure my stateroom and 
am promised impressively by the gentlemanly clerk in charge 
that if it is a possible thing I shall have my stateroom all to 
myself. He will hold this stateroom for me and seize any op- 
portunity to make a change for the better. I need not pay 
until they have finally done the best they can for me. We de- 
part happy and triumphant. 

Now that I am thoroughly rested, my friends, the officers of 
the Alameda and the kind people to whom I have letters of in- 
troduction came forward, and in a series of drives, dinners and 
visits contrive to show me the place and make my stay a very 
pleasant one. We drive about the city into a lovely valley, 
where I see rice and taro growing, which latter is the principal 
of the native dish poi, the "night-blooming cereus" and other 
plants, and get an idea of the country lying back in the island ; 



40 AMONG THE LEPERS. 

and then to Waikiki, the Coney Island of Honolulu, seeing 
banana orchards on the way and cocoanut trees when we get 
there ; and then we drive to the race track where we saw all the 
world of Honolulu ; and then to a baseball match. 

Another drive several miles back in the island takes me up a 
mountain to a narrow pass, where the wind draws through 
with such force it is almost impossible to make any headway 
against it. The gap in the mountains winds a little, and after 
rounding a certain difficult point, where the wind blows one 
back as fast as one walks, one can stand with back to the moun- 
tain wall and look across a chasm that descends from your feet 
and is guarded by an iron rail, quite across the island to the 
sea on the other side. The return is comparatively easy, as the 
wind carries you around the corner and half way down the 
hill in the twinkling of an eye. It lifted me fairly off my feet 
and I came down on the rocks as lightly as a feather all in a 
heap, a step or so ahead of the wind. 

I was taken by the doctor who has charge of it, to see the 
Leper Hospital here. He had been ordered to pick out the 
worst cases among the lepers to be sent to Molaikai, another 
island, where all the hopeless cases are sent as the hospital be- 
comes overcrow ded. A dreadful place, they say, -aside from 
the misery of being parted from friends. He was in despair 
over this order, as he could not make up his mind to consign 
any of his patients to that terrible place. His humane treat- 
ment and sympathy for his patients was attested by their atti- 
tude toward him. The children, girls of eight and nine years, 
were aching for a romp with him, running out of reach with 
screams of laughter when he made passes at them. The older 
people, smiling and pleasant, say some welcoming word. With 
those who were just grieving over some recent development in 
the progress of their disease he had a pleasant, hearty, reassuring 
air and was very apt to leave them laughing. One woman 
gave him a piece of bone an inch long which had fallen out of 
the end of her finger. She was inclined to weep over it; he wrap- 
ped it carefully in a piece of paper and told her it was a love- 
gift, and left her smiling and half consoled. 

I believe much has been said against the arrangements of the 
hospital. Personally, I should not like to live there. But to 
these natives who live in huts and hovels and are accustomed 



NATIVE MUSIC. 41 

to dirt, confinement in narrow quarters, hardship and primitive 
life, the hospital must appear palatial. It contains no pier 
glasses or statuary or Eastlake furniture, to be sure, or any of 
the luxuries civilization has made a necessity to many people, 
but it is nevertheless as comfortable a place • for them as any 
place would be with their affliction and the separation from 
their friends. They have comfortable beds, with plenty of bed 
clothes, of which they don't need many in that climate, and 
their customary diet of poi and fish. Their rooms are open and 
airy, the helpless ones lie quiet, while those who are not dis- 
abled run around in the grounds and help take care of the rest. 
All are overlooked by the Sisters of Mercy in charge, to whom 
great credit is due for the patience and self sacrifice exhibited in 
devoting themselves to such a life. I went there quite an un- 
expected visitor and was received and taken through without 
delay or excuse, so am satisfied I saw the hospital as it is. The 
doctor seems to be thought much of by the natives. All the 
children along the streets saluting him as we passed and ap- 
parently anxious to have a romp with him. 

A native band plays once a week in the public square at 
Honolulu, and once a week in the grounds in front of the 
hotel, and on the wharf whenever a steamer is departing. It is 
a large band with all the modern instruments, and they play 
all of our best music, classic, operatic and popular, and their 
execution is exceedingly good. The native music is very 
beautiful and has a character of its own which is most pleasing. 
While performing native airs, the band often sing a bar or so 
with great effect, their voices being very soft and sympathetic. 
One of the peculiarities of the native music was the commencing 
of a phrase with a long note and finishing with a short one. 

On the day of sailing all Honoluhi came down to the wharf 
to see the steamer off. And I, ten days before, an entire 
stranger in the city, had a circle of friends ^to bid me goodbye 
and bring me flowers and fruit. 

I was introduced to King Kalakua, who, with Princess Like- 
like, was on board seeing off friends. When I was introduced 
to him I began to chatter like the blackbirds "when the pie 
was opened." I ran on with my usual audacious frivolity, 
when suddenly it occurred to me that I had not heard him 
speak to any one of the many people he had been introduced to. 



42 PRINCESS LIKELIKE. 

1 was horrified and silent, therefore, for an instant which gave 
him time to recover from the dazed condition my audacity had 
thrown him into, and he condescended to talk to me a little, 
until I, fearful of committing' some worse breach of etiquette,* 
detached myself. I watched him afterwards and saw he merely 
shook hands with the people to whom he was introduced. He 
is more like an Englishman than a native in his dress, gravity 
and personal appearance, apart from color. As for the Princess 
Likelike, she is a Parisienne, barring only skin, in black jersey 
and flounced silk skirt, walking length, small neat bonnet 
with peacock-blue wing around it, booted and gloved and car- 
rying parasol and wearing 1 stays, presenting just such an ap- 
pearance as ladies generally do on Broadway. 

At last we sailed, and I was once more at my old place, as far 
forward on deck as one can get and stay on board, and threat- 
ened with general and complete disintegration by the wind, 
which was dead ahead. Various gentlemen have tried to sit it 
out with me in that favorite spot, but they are invariably driven 
back to the cabin by the wind and the peculiar lunging motion 
in that part of tbe ship, and I alone remain, the admiration of 
sailors and passengers. But pride, they say, must have a fall, 
and mine was about to take a little "tumble." The sea was 
high and the ports, therefore, all closed ; my little stateroom 
was consequently insufferably hot ; I could not eat in the warm 
close saloon. I fled to the deck, where I "ate " a good supper, 
and after a jolly evening in the wind and spray, which was 
washing the deck fore and aft, I went down to my oven at half- 
past ten with much reluctance. Was not sick as I expected 
to be, but could not sleep in that stifling atmosphere. The 
moment it was light I struggled into my clothes and flew, with 
a seasick gasp, on deck, where I remained all day unkempt and 
damp. I didn't venture down into the dining saloon again till 
night, and then I beat a hasty retreat. Heat and motion com- 
bined were too much for me. I was disgusted and ashamed of 
myself, after sailing from New York to San Francisco and 
never missing a meal for anything short of a hurricance, to be 
demoralized by a miserable little sea like this ! They call it 
heavy weather on this side, but there is a big difference between 
Pacific heavy weather and Atlantic heavy weather. I had one 
comfort in my ignominious qualm. The captain was seasick 



THE RETURN VOYAGE. 43 

for half an hour and the first mate Was seasick all night, and 
the doctor isn't well yet. If these old tars " caved in" to the 
malady in their well ventilated upper deck staterooms, I don't 
think I need grieve over my collapse in an oven. 

I Was the only woman on deck the third day, and received 
many compliments for my seamanship, for I was as "chipper '* 
as usual. One gentleman said he watched me while I was talk- 
ing to two gentlemen together, and kept count, and he said I 
talked forty-five minutes out of an hour, and the two gentle- 
men only fifteen minutes between them. 

This hot stateroom business is a foretaste of what I shall 
encounter, I suppose, on my way around the world, but I'm 
a pretty fair sailor, even under such adverse circumstances, and 
am willing to take my chances. The fourth day being pleasant, 
the seasick ones slowly emerged from their dens ; few remain 
on deck, however, and all are very much demoralized. 

Among the passengers was a woman with six children rang- 
ing from an infant up. All six were on deck that first day f 
spread out in a row on the benches, in various stages of sea-- 
sickness. The last to come out was a little girl of four years? 
and instead of taking the position at the end of the line she 
wedged herself in between two of her prostrate brothers, with a- 
"misery-loves-company" air that was pathetic to see. 

There is a learned judge on board who is trying to sum me 
up and finds me the hardest case he ever tried, combining 
frivolity and evident enjoyment of life with a readiness for 
death, shipwreck or disaster ; frank sociability, and open enjoy- 
ment of "taffy," with, at the same time, an impervious reserve. 

Really, I don't know what the rest of the passengers would 
have done for amusement without me. I talked one day from 
breakfast to lunch with the Judge, and he was taken with gout 
and didn't put in an appearance until the next day, and of 
course they made the most of that. The Judge was very inter- 
esting. When he was not cross-examining me, he repeated 
yards of Shakespeare and Byron, or gave way to the expression 
of his own odd sort of cynicism. I lent him " The Rubaiyat of 
Omar Khayyam," which was just in his way, and he liked it 
very much. 

I find an enjoyment in traveling alone that I should not get 
if I had any one to take care of me. My peculiarity is in 



44 BACK AGAIN. 

getting fun out of things that everybody else considers the 
nuisances of traveling, like going through the Custom House 
and Health Officers' hands, attending to my own baggage trans- 
fers, buying my tickets, and selecting my staterooms and bar- 
gaining with hack drivers. 

Really, it is curious what friends I make. Friends who are 
anxious to insure my future comfort and safety. One might 
think that with my frankness and frivolity I should sometimes 
be misunderstood, but I never seem to be. I get all kinds of 
advice and offers of assistance in case of need, and assurances 
of friendship and interest in my success. And in being handed 
over from one captain to another, I get first class recommend- 
ation, like this: "First rate sailor, always jolly, takes things 
as they come, and never growls." I am very proud of my 
friends on this ship, because I came on board without acquaint- 
ance or recommendation. 

I have made the acquaintance of a very singular man — a 
man who adores the wife he has lived with, without break or 
separation for twelve years. All this in direct defiance of the 
laws of science, philosophy, and human nature in general and 
particular. He regretted the head winds that delayed us, he 
regretted the loss of an hour of the precious time he was to 
spend with his wife. All this after twelve years of steady 
married life. I am amazed ! And more than that, he was not 
ashamed of it. Will wonders never cease ? Strange as it may 
seem, I have always believed, and all the arguments and 
experiences of a lifetime have failed to entirely annihilate my 
theory, that somewhere in the world such a man existed, and 
here I have really found him. Now I am satisfied. I feel 
that I have not lived in vain. I can now return to New York 
happy in the consciousness of the existence of one loyal hus- 
band whose love has stood the test of marriage and of years. 

Arrived at San Francisco we were detained off quarantine an 
hour, and just escaped being quarantined ten days on a sup- 
posed case of leprosy on board. I quite enjoy going through 
the Custom House. Think I am going to have lots of fun that 
way in Europe. I shan't mind being quarantined, either, if I 
ever come to that. I'm always sorry to leave the ship. 



HO, FOR JAPAN! 

On Board -Steamer City of Tokio, Sept. lZth, 1884. — Once 
more at sea ! And how I like it ! But oh, what a rush and 
tug- it was to get off. I was up this morning at six, was seasick 
at eight, heartsick at nine, and a complete wreck of despair at 
ten. At eleven I had got my spirits up again and tackled those 
trunks, and got them full and half shut in short metre. I en- 
gaged a girl to come and sit on one of them while I took breath, 
and then I closed them and locked them. Among my other 
well known talents I possess a genius for closing trunks. No 
one can beat me at it. Sometimes if I don't feel energetic I get 
a boy to try it, but it usually ends in my closing it while he 
looks on and is immensely instructed. At twelve I sat down to 
recover my little traveling cushion with the most brilliant red 
satin to be had, then I strap it up with my rug and shawl, put on 
my hat and wrap, seize my ulster, grab my parasol, pick up my 
satchel, reach for my shawl strap, cast a wistful eye on my two 
chairs and two trunks, and lo ! I am ready to depart. The hack- 
man having successfully manipulated my trunks and chairs, the 
carriage waits, and I — after a friendly farewell to the natives of 
the hotel — am stowed with my several belongings, within it, and 
off I go. 

I reach the Tokio in good time, and the agent of the Pa- 
cific Mail S. S. Co. introduces me to the Steward and invokes 
the kind attentions of the servitors generally in my behalf ; 
then presents me to the Captain and is otherwise kind and at- 
tentive. I have received a Godspeed by telegram that almost 
reduces me to tears. Presently we move slowly away from the 
wbarf and down the bay past the wharves of the Alameda 
and the Santa Rosa, out through the Golden Gate to the sea, 
where we take aim with our bowsprit at Japan, and go it. 

A former traveling companion came to see me off. With a 
frivolous desire to make a good impression on my future fellow 
passengers, I had put on a new dress to go aboard ship in, a 
dress that proves to have a particularly fractious pocket. My 
friend seeing me disburse sums of money at intervals for fees 
and telegrams, has ample opportunity to note the difficulty I 

45 



46 A JOLLY START. 

have in getting anything out of that pocket. "That's just like 
a woman," he says laughing over one of my prolonged struggles 
with it, "never can get anything out of her pocket." When 
all the good-byes have been said and we are moving away from 
the wharf and people are waving handkerchiefs, my friend gets 
out his to wave at me. I have put my hand into my pocket 
and searched around but I can't get at my handkerchief, it is 
way at the bottom of the pocket with sundry keys, cardcases, 
pocketbooks, pencils, knives and goodness knows what, on top 
of it, all wedged in so tightly I can't get near the desired arti- 
cle. Still I make an effort, twisting and groping around in the 
pocket while the steamer is moving off and the friend on the 
dock, divining my intentions and difficulty, is convulsed. He 
alternately waves his handkerchief and doubles himself up with 
laughter at my expense. I divide my time between laughing 
immoderately, stamping my feet with impatience, and wrestling 
with the pocket, but all is of no avail, the handkerchief rests 
peacefully at the bottom of it until we are out of sight of the 
dock. It has served a purpose, however, for I Lave left my 
native shores in a gale of laughter instead of a shower of tears. 

On leaving the docks the Chinese steerage passengers, of 
which there were a large number, threw overboard a quantity 
of bright colored bits of paper, prayers to their gods for good 
fortune and safety. It was a variegated shower ; a very unique 
and pretty sight. 

Our Commander is a Commodore; I sit at his left, and I have 
the very nicest young man on board ship at my left. He is a 
naval officer, the paymaster of an American naval ship on the 
China station, and is going out to his vessel. The passengers 
on board are an Englishman, a genial bore, going to remain in 
Japan, I think ; a learned German gentleman, going over my 
route ; a diplomat going to take his place in the English legation 
at China, and the handsome American paymaster. Of course, 
with true patriotism, I like the latter best. These gentlemen 
provide me with extra cushions and rugs till " I can't rest." 
There are also two other ladies, traveling alone together, who 
are young and good looking, and two more ladies with their 
husbands. 

Seated on deck with a group of intelligent, cultivated, 
traveled gentlemen, representing several nationalities, making a 



LIFE AT SEA. 47 

semicircle around me, discussing literature, governments, 
countries and peoples, and varying from the frivolous to the 
scientific, I am enjoying myself as much as ever. We have 
quite a charming circle. The young Diplomat proves to he a 
very nice fellow indeed. I very much like his views of our 
country, which are at once critical and friendly, quite thought- 
ful and entirely sincere. The Commodore is a man of intelli- 
gence and ability, and is pleasant, but is very despotic, narrow 
and cynical in his views. It is curious to notice how every one 
accepts his statements without demur. Nobody contradicts the 
Commodore. He is a very strict disciplinarian, and all the 
machinery of the ship's service runs like clockwork. The en- 
tire crew and saloon service is made up of Chinese. At one 
stroke of the bell the waiters all stand behind the guests at table, 
at another they turn, at another they go to a side table and take 
up their especial dish, at another they return to then* places and 
wait for another stroke to place them on the table. The prema- 
ture placing of a dish brings a severe rebuke from the Com- 
modore. 

Who says a sea voyage is stupid ? I am kept occupied all the 
time. I am engaged to walk with one, to talk with another, to 
play chess with another, to play whist with several more, quoits 
with others, and all unite in kindly attentions to me. I am 
singularly successful in playing games. In all games my side 
wins. I played quoits for the first time. This is a dangerous 
game for people standing behind me, as that is where my quoits 
eventually fetch up. We have been having delightful games 
of whist. I prove to be a fair player and a singularly lucky one. 
I have changed partners until I have got the poorest player and 
the other two are very scientific players, but my luck is invin- 
cible. We have an English missionary minister on board, and 
my opinion of missionaries has risen to a very flattering stand- 
ard on the observance of this reverend gentleman's interest in 
his wife and three children. It affords me the sincerest pleasure 
to see him put his baby to sleep, carry it around and nurse it 
most of the time. He plays whist too. 

Everybody is surprised, amused at, and interested in my voy- 
age. They tell me that they never saw or heard of such a thing 
before as a young woman of my quiet inoffensive type starting 
out on such an enterprise ; at the same time they say I shall 



48 A PACIFIC GALE. 

find no difficulty about it, and encourage me in every way. I 
am gathering all tlie information possible from my fellow- 
travelers as regards Europe, as well as Japan, and India. 
After a week at sea one feels very much at borne on board ship. 
We play games, read, and lounge, regardless of motion or sur- 
roundings, and feel as safe rolling in the center of this vast 
bowl of sea as we should at home in our own parlors — at least, 
I do. 

September 2Qth.— According to custom, we have dropped a 
day in midocean. We went calmly to sleep last night, Wed- 
nesday, and woke up this morning to find it Friday instead of 
Thursday. I shouldn't have minded the loss of one day if it 
hadn't happened to be " duff " day. I feel that I have been 
swindled out of my duff. Social amenities being fairly estab- 
lished, we sing in the evenings before and after whist, the sing- 
ing being of the most primitive kind. I have a fair standing as 
a prima donna. A young naval officer's wife plays nicely. 
We dance, too, and when it comes to waltzing I have my hands 
full. I am aware that the egotism displayed in my letters is be- 
coming something terrific, but I am afraid you will have to bear 
it until I reach Japan and can write about the country. This 
voyage is supposed to be the safest in the world. It is out of the 
line of other steamers so no collision is possible. On the other 
hand, no help is near in case of accident by fire or breaking 
machinery. We haven't seen a sail since we left San Francisco 
and don't expect to see any before reaching Yokohama. The 
fallacy about never taking cold at sea is exploded ; several of us 
have dreadful colds. I am enjoying mine now. 

September 29th. — Well, we've had a gale. It came on to blow 
three days ago. It rained too, and we were driven inside by 
the rain and the frequent arrival of waves on deck. The ship 
rolled fearfully, causing people standing to take seats with more 
haste than grace, and in any place convenient, regardless 
of proprieties or consequences. The prevailing mode of 
descending the stairs was to pitch headlong halfway down, 
make a carom on the banisters, and shoot off at right angles the 
other halfway. People who left their cabin ports open were 
rather dissatisfied on going to their staterooms at finding their 
personal effects floating about in a heavy sea that had come in. 
All ports being closed, it was very close below, so I deserted my 



I AM "IMPROVED." 49 

stateroom and took my cushion and my ulster, and slept up- 
stairs in the social hall, which was well ventilated ; that is I 
slept when the weather permitted. We had a terrific sea on, 
though not so bad as I experienced at Cape Pillar, and the crash 
and clatter was not encouraging' to sleep. Walking or standing 
or eating — all were attended with uncertainty, many of the 
passengers taking their soup and coffee, via sleeves or shirt 
fronts ; indeed, eating was quite an art and only to be acquired 
with long practice. It requires some dexterity to keep a plate of 
soup from overflowing first one side and then another, and to 
eat it, and at the same time keep 'an eye on a cup of chocolate so 
as to catch it and bring it to a level at each successive roll. To- 
day is smoother, and we think our storms are over. 

I have enjoyed our gale with all its attendant discomforts 
immensely. The rest of the people have their own opinion of a 
person who enjoys rough seas. We still play whist, and I still 
win. Usually I play quite well enough to please my antago- 
nist, but there is no satisfying my partner. He is very hard to 
please ; I think he is unreasonable. Winning for him is not 
enough ; he requires that I should play scientifically. He says 
I play by intuition, and that there are certain well defined rules 
of the game which I ignore. I say he is altogether too exegetical. 
I think when I win by the audacity and originality of my play, 
he ought to admire it, at least as long as I don't trump his aces. So 
then we have a long discussion about it and other things, in 
which it appears that he criticises me because he takes an interest 
in me, and wants to improve me, which is very kind of him, but 
not exactly complimentary and thereafter he questions me and 
cross-examines me and badgers me, and " improves" me, until 
I say, "Well, this is quite refreshing. I haven't had such a 
quarrel since I was a child and tried to manage my brother," 
and he gives me up as a hopeless case of intentional perversity 
quite beyond his comprehension. "Improve" me, indeed! 
I've seen several people who have wanted to improve me 
before, and the improving process has quite lost both its novelty 
and its charm. Besides, I think I am quite good enough already. 
All the same he is very nice, gentlemanly, intelligent and sincere, 
and I like him immensely — though I think it is a mistake to 
play a trivial game as if it were a matter of life and death. The 
Diplomat, whom, although he is an Englishman by education, 



50 JAPAN, HO ! 

I consider the next nicest gentleman on board, listens and 
joins in and enjoys our wrangles, and rather sympathizes, in 
the way of understanding and approving of me and my ground. 
When the Paymaster gets quite puzzled over my incomprehen- 
sibility he turns me over to the Diplomat, saying, ' ' She says so- 
and-so ; can you understand that ? " and the Diplomat quite 
disappoints him by comprehending at once. They twain are 
good friends, as they should be. 

I place the Diplomat second only because he is an English- 
man and tinged, though ever so lightly, with English notions 
regarding women. It is really nothing but a remnant left of 
inborn prejiidice. I notice that he enjoys discussing with 
women and has a respect for their opinions, and that at the same 
time he is quite delightfully frank in disagreeing with them, 
two points in which he differs from the ordinary Englishman. 
The Paymaster says, after a discussion in which I have ex- 
pressed myself rather doubtfully, assenting to most things with 
a " perhaps " or " that is comparatively true," " You are a very 
negative person ; you seem not to be positive of anything. Is 
there anything of which you are positively certain ?" And I reply, 
"Yes, I am perfectly certain of the uncertainty of everything." 
He calls that a "paradox" and a " glittering generality " and 
asserts his belief that it doesn't mean anything. I calmly say, 
"Perhaps not," and he consigns me to the Diplomat, who under- 
stands perfectly and thinks up another " glittering generality " 
that matches it. 

October 3d, 10 A. M. — We expect to reach Yokohama about 
five o'clock to-day. We have had our last concert ; played our 
last games of whist and of chess, finished and returned our bor- 
rowed books, have taken our last moonlight promenade on 
board the Tokio, and now, having packed our trunks, we all 
adjourn to the deck to watch for the first sight of land. We are 
coming to the end of a very pleasant voyage, which has been 
marked by the general prevalence of fine weather and pleasant 
companionship. All have remained good friends to the last and 
all agree that the time has slipped away with amazing rapidity, 
a dull hour being a thing unknown on board the City of 
Tokio. 

October 4th. — So much that is entirely new and novel bas 
been passing before my eyes since yesterday morning that I 



YOKOHAMA. 51 

hardly know where to begin to describe it, and truly it is inde- 
scribable. I think I shall begin at this end of events and say 
that I am supposed to have the pleasantest room in Yokohama, 
overlooking the Japanese harbor, the Bay of Yesso, there being 
only a roadway between the hotel and the bay ; and that at this 
moment a " sampan " (boat) is passing my window with several 
men in it. One of them, standing up in the center of it rowing, 
is attired in a loin cloth and a black coat, which latter garment 
flaps picturesquely in the wind. 

Coming up the bay yesterday the scenery from the time we 
first saw land until we reached Yokohama was very pretty. 
Unlike the Calif ornian coast, which is barren and uninteresting, 
here it is green and apparently under cultivation. The effect of 
a hill all laid out in terraces is charming, and we saw many of 
them. We saw many small and large boats, and they too 
seemed odd, all the sails being square. The "waterscape" is 
dotted with squares of canvas, and presently a Japanese junk 
drifts slowly by us and we have a good opportunity to observe 
its construction. It appears to be going backward, the stern 
being so much higher than the bow ; and its great square sail 
instead of being smooth is " shirred," to speak in dress language. 

"We have long before this seen the famous mountain Fu- 
giama and have observed that it looks as grand and majestic and 
" calm" as our " genial bore " had described it, to which finale 
of a lengthly flight we had flippantly responded that, if there 
was one thing more becoming to a mountain than another we 
should think it was "calmness." Coming to anchor, the 
scenery really beggars description. We are the objective point 
for which innumerable "sampans" and four or five steam 
launches are making. They come alongside and vie with each 
other for places. The steam launches are from the various 
hotels. The sampans are for general hire. Other boats, fishing 
boats, are drifting by. Of all the different varieties of dress the 
Japanese have the widest range, and each variety seemed to be 
represented in that conclave of boats. There were boatmen 
clothed in a long gown, a cross between a dressing gown and 
an ulster, leaving the chest bare. Others, by way of contrast, 
had absolutely nothing on but a loin cloth, and very well 
dressed they looked, too, in their golden-brown skins. I ad- 
mired them immensely. What they lacked by way of clothing 



52 QUEER COSTUMES. 

on their bodies they made up for by that of their heads, which 
were tied up in cloth, usually white but often colored. Another 
dress consisted of a pair of blue-black suspenders, crossed on 
the back, and blue-black sleeves fitting 1 closely and reaching 
from the wrists up to above the elbow. I was so taken up with 
this curious way the people had of clothing themselves in the 
most unnecessary places that I didn't remember to observe 
whether they had anything else on or not. I think they wore a 
skirt with that costume. Another costume consists of blue- 
black trousers, which are almost close fitting enough to be 
tights, and blue-black close-fitting blouse sliirt. I rather admire 
this close fitting costume. The hotel boys wear it, and they go 
about so quietly and so lightly. They are little undersized men, 
but they look neat and trim in this dress, which is finished off 
by black or blue-black cloth shoes. These shoes I should call 
foot mittens because they have a separate apartment for the big 
toe. 

Having been advised by the captain and the purser of the 
Tokio to come to the Windsor, I concluded to do so, although 
the Grand Hotel, which is next door, is supposed to be the most 
fashionable. Failing to find any other reason for going to it, 
and finding that one insufficient, I let the purser place me in 
charge of the Windsor Hotel keeper, and presently, after many 
farewells, I and my baggage and several fellow travelers who 
were brave enough to prefer quiet comfort to ostentatious fash- 
ion, and the Paymaster who, I think, had it on his conscience 
to look after a certain lone feminine creature, were all stowed 
into the Windsor House steam launch and were making for the 
shore. Arrived there, we walked along the "bund" to the 
hotel, a distance of a block or so, and for once in my life I went 
along the street with my eyes wide open, for this at last was Ja- 
pan. And here were curious looking, curiously dressed people • 
and here were odd looking little children carrying still littler 
and still odder looking children on their backs ; and here were 
the much talked of jinrickshas. Reaching the hotel I was taken 
to this charming room, where I received my trunks and keys 
presently, and dressed for dinner. The proprietor's wife, an 
American, called on me and was pleasant. My room faces the 
bay, and opens at each side on a veranda also looking out on the 
bay. The Paymaster found a friend of his, a Lord Dundreary, 



A POLITE PEOPLE. 53 

and brought him here to dine with me and to tell me about 
Japan. He is to supply me with a passport for the interior. 

Everything seems very safe about here. I have an all pervad- 
ing sense of security. The Japanese disposition is friendly 
and polite ; indeed, their politeness overpowers me. I had two 
native guides call on me to-day, and could not prevail on either 
of them to sit down while I read their many letters of recom- 
mendation, and they bowed very low in responding to every 
question I put. I have engaged one sent me by a gentleman, 
cashier of the firm of Walsh, Hall Sc Co. , and shall set out with 
him for Nikko in a day or two. I started out by myself this 
morning, being put in a jinricksha by the proprietor of the hotel, 
who ordered the man to take me to the P. M. S. S. Co.'s office 
and Walsh, Hall & Co.'s bank, which he did. A jinricksha is 
very comfortable on the whole, though one is apt to consider 
every pound one weighs when a fellow creature is in the shafts. 
Thank goodness I weigh only 101 pounds ; I lost five pounds 
at Honolulu and haven't recovered them yet. 

Walsh, Hall & Co. were very polite and friendly, particularly 
the Co., who got me the guide and tried to find "Ito," Miss 
Bird's guide, forme. Mr. Centre, of the P. M. S. S. Co., was 
not in, but called on me afterwards and put his services, along 
with those of almost all the other people I have met, at my dispo- 
sal. I have to request my fellow travelers whose time is shorter 
than mine, not to waste it in waiting on me. I have received so 
many kindly attentions — better yet, such thoroughly gentle- 
manly attentions — from them that I believe they consider me a 
sort of protege of theirs in general and in particular. 

The walls of my room are decorated with a combination of 
fans and Japanese photographs, and panel pictures, and bibli- 
cal pictures, and San Francisco advertising placques (just fancy) 
otherwise it is comfortably American in its furniture, with the 
exception of an inlaid or mosaic work-table, which it is going to 
break my heart to part with. So much for my first twenty -four 
hours in Japan. 

October 8th. — Well, I've done it ! I've been and indulged in 
the most disreputable "racket." Now "I feel better. I went 
with a gentleman to a first-class Japanese restaurant and dined 
Japanese fashion ; drank saki, was entertained by Japanese 
singing and dancing girls. Nobody in Japan must ever know 



54 Dancing girls. 

it, because it would ruin the young man forever, he occupying 
an official position, and for the same reason he can't tell on me, 
though I don't care. He said it was not disreputable, only sin- 
gular. However, it was just what I wanted ; it brought me in 
direct contact with Japanese girls. Now to give an account. 

First, we dismissed our jinrickshas ; then we walked down a 
little narrow Japanese street and turned into a restaurant 
through a square doorway and not very light passage. We 
were stopped at the foot of a short flight of very smooth polished 
stairs, where we remove our shoes. Thence we go up into a 
square, low ceiled room, opening on one side by sliding doors 
upon a balcony of flowers that looks into a garden. The room 
is carpeted with matting and absolutely bare of furniture with 
the exception of a solid block of wood as high as an ottoman, 
marked something like a chess board, on which they play " go- 
bang," two thin cushions and a tall candle. We each take a 
cushion and kneel on it ; a girl comes in at the door, creeping 
on her hands and knees, and prostrates herself still lower before 
us. 

We give our order, viz.: the names of the dancing girls we 
want. After sending for half a dozen we get three, and while 
we are waiting supper is brought ; soup in the nicest little lac- 
quer bowls with covers to them to keep, it hot, fish in various 
shapes, sausage and baked chestnuts of a very large kind. The 
first course, though, is apple blossom tea ; that is, a tiny cup of 
hot water with a single blossom in it and a little salt. Next 
came rice cakes, very nice, thin and delicate, and then the soup, 
fish and sausage and chestnuts and little cups of tea, about twice 
the size of a thimble, and tiny bowls of saki. 

I thought of ' ' Omar Kahyyam " all the evening. A bowl of 
water and a bottle of saki stands between our two trays, and 
we have paper napkins. The bowl of water is for us to dip 
our saki bowls in and hand them to each other to drink saki 
from by way of compliment. We exchange compliments with 
the singer of the first rank in the same way. The dancing girl 
was a slip of a thing, only thirteen or so, I imagine. She 
danced or rather performed and sang in a weak, unmusical 
voice. The prettiest and brightest girl played on a samisen, an 
instrument similar to a guitar, while the other danced. There were 
two additional girls as waiters. The dancing is rather a posturing 



AN EXCITING GAME. 55 

by "way of illustrating the song that is sung. Between whiles 
we drank saki and talked to the girls, and I and the girls ex- 
amined each other's wearing apparel and trinkets and then 
played "gobang," the girls giving me my first lesson in that 
noble game and beating me every time to their own infinite 
amusement. They would not let my escort tell me or even look 
at the board. In fact, the entertainment was conducted quite 
entirely for my amusement. 

After that more song and dance, and then they played a song 
and dance game which is something like "beans porridge hot." 
The game is between two, and a wrong gesture is paid for by 
an article of dress. This game, if carried on to any extent, 
. would be attended with startling results ; but the Japanese 
girls are particularly averse to anything like exposure, I'm 
told, so the game is seldom carried beyond the loss of hairpins 
and handkerchiefs and small articles that may well be spared 
without any serious disarrangement of dress. It was a very ex- 
citing game, however, and we had a perfectly hilarious time 
over it. It is very rapidly played and there is a very abrupt 
climax where a mistake is made ; and confusion on one side and 
screams of laughter on the other always follow. I am told that 
the Japanese have little or no idea of privacy, the sexes bathing 
together and going about half naked, sometimes entirely so ; 
but that is a matter of custom. Exposure for the sake of ex- 
posure is as objectionable with Japanese women as it is with us. 
At half -past nine, after a jolly evening, we broke up. The 
girls were quite delighted with me and came down the 
stairs and helped me on with my shoes, which they admired ; 
and after a warm good-bye, which was quite affectionate 
toward me, we left them looking after us on the door- 
step. That has been the pleasantest and most instructive part 
of my visit. I'm more interested in the women and children of 
the different countries than I am in men, gods or temples. I 
foresee that I shall be very tired of temples before I get to Eu 
rope. At this Japanese tea all the waiting on us was done on 
hands and knees. Some came in on their knees ; the others 
dropped down the moment they entered, and none of the girls 
stood up in the room except to dance. On the other hand, my 
guides bow very low and very frequently, but nothing will in- 
duce them to sit in my presence. I had the pleasure of dining 



56 TOKIO. 

with chopsticks, much to the amusement of the girls over my 
awkwardness. There's nothing like converting your short- 
comings and trials into a source of amusement, a habit worth 
cultivating when traveling. 

Yesterday I went up to Tokio and called on our American 
Minister, Mr. Bingham. I told the Paymaster I was going 
alone, and he telegraphed his friend, the Lord Dundreary, to 
whom he introduced me and who had very kindly offered to 
show me around, to meet me at the depot, which he did ; and I 
was not permitted to go to the cars alone. The proprietor of the 
hotel, Mr. Wolf, took me to the depot with the aid of the tiniest 
and most ridiculously built Japanese pony you ever saw. Lord 
Dundreary met me at Tokio and took me to Mr. Bingham, who 
received me kindly and introduced me to his wife and daughter 
and ordered his secretary to make out my passport for Eu- 
rope, and was exceedingly courteous generally, promising to 
call on me in Yokohama. 

Lord Dundreary took me to the temples of Sheba, all very 
wonderful, very brilliant, very curious, and so forth. I was 
much amused by the perfunctory air with which a priest led 
around the devotees and had them kneel, and knelt himself and 
went through his performances of praying, and yet kept one 
eye on me, the curious foreigner. We went into one temple, 
removing our shoes for the purpose, and knelt, which it is quite 
necessary to do to get the proportions, the ceiling being low. 
We went up a high hill, where we got a lovely view of Tokio 
and the bay, and were regaled with apple blossom and hot 
water, and we admired the pretty Japanese girls who waited on 
us rather more, I fear, than we did the temples. . We went up 
and down this hill by way of a long, unbroken flight of one 
hundred and one steep stairs. At the foot a sort of fair was go- 
ing on, and there were numerous tents with various perform- 
ances within. We went into one and witnesssed a horrible rep- 
resentation of an execution with imitation blood and making of 
ugly faces. I was more interested in the people than anything 
else. The women and small girls go about with babies on their 
backs, most of the latter awake and contented and grave ; here 
and there one has fallen asleep, and its poor little unfortunate 
head dangles about in the ambitious attempt to rest it on its own 
back, to the imminent peril of its neck. As we ride along 



MORE KINDNESS. 57 

through the crowded streets our jinricksha men shout at the 
people to get out of the way. 

There is a continual bombardment of visiting cards. I don't 
have much time to do anything but receive calls. The interest 
these people manifest is very kind, to say the least. I went to 
my banker's to-day to get some money changed, and asked 
about a guide incidentally. In an hour or two the cashier 
called and offered his services ; in an hour or two more he sent 
me a note and a guide. Next Mr. Centre called and offered his 
services, and in the evening the head of the bank called on me, 
loaded me up with advice, and ended by sending me pillows and 
linen for my trip. When I got back yesterday I found a num- 
ber of cards and notes. To-day the ' ' Genial Bore " of the Tokio 
called, also an English lady and gentleman in the house. Mr. 
Gay, the silent partner of "Walsh, Hall & Co., followed suit and 
is extremely anxious to be of use. The Diplomat succeeded him, 
and then Lord Dundreary. I invited the Diplomat to dine with 
me, and it ended in my going to dine with him at the Grand, 
which is the best hotel for dining purposes. He came back with 
me and we have spent the evening in a last discussion. We go 
in opposite directions on the morrow, and the probabilities are 
against our ever meeting again. Everybody takes care of me. 
The Paymaster left me a letter of introduction to his brother at 
Nagasaki, after having done everything he could to further my 
interests here. 



A JAPANESE JOURNEY. 

October 9th. — Tea house on the road to Nikko. Noon. So 
far so good. Up at half -past five this morning, off in a jin- 
ricksha alone to the train for Tokio. At Tokio my guide, Take, 
meets me, he having gone there in advance last night to engage 
jinrickshas, which we get into at once, and off we go at a rat- 
tling gait. Just fancy men running in the shafts, hour after 
hour, with a steady unvarying trot that a horse might envy ! 

For a long distance we kept in the city. There is a lot of 
Tokio, and even here it is rather thickly settled and village like. 
I have to keep my eyes open all the time, and can't begin to take 
note of all that passes before them. I am myself an object of 
interest all the way along. I like to see the little four-year-olds 
come flying out to join some playmate, and fetch up on the side- 
walk with a jerk that makes that topknot of hair stand out 
"several ways for Sunday " at the sight of me. Children are 
children all the world over, and I recognize the same surprised 
look in these little dark skinned, curiously dressed creature's 
eyes that one notes in the eyes of white children when they see 
anything as strange as I am here. They seldom cry, it seems ; 
and almost as soon as they can walk the next baby is strapped 
upon their backs and they play around, carrying this load with 
very little reference to it. There are advantages and disad- 
vantages in this mode of carrying children. On one side, it 
leaves one freer and better able to attend to other things ; but, 
on the other side, it makes all but impossible that attention to 
an infant's face which is requisite to the attractiveness of its per- 
sonal appearance. I see little mites of four with a big six or 
eight months' old baby on their small backs, and little two- 
year-olds with dolls strapped to their backs as a preliminary 
measure. 

This is just the place for a small boy that I am acquainted 
with to come and live, to whom dressing is a long and tedious 
proceeding. He wouldn't have to dress here at all. I see little 
children all along the street playing and running about without 
anything on whatever, and nice and brown and fat they look, 
(oo. I am writing this piecemeal, scratching a word or two at 

58 



AT A TEA HOUSE. 59 

stopping places. We have got to a tea house at Nakade, where 
we dine and shall spend the night. It is four o'clock and Take 
is preparing my dinner. I have got into a quarter where I am 
still more of a novelty ; the children catching sight of me run 
alongside a little way, until I smile at them, and then they are 
suddenly stricken with shyness. We have just crossed a little 
river, jinrickshas and all, in a flat hoat which was poled across. 
It being hut a few steps to the tea house, we walked, little 
children rushing from all quarters to look at me. I sought 
seclusion within. Two ~r three little ones belonging here came 
and looked at me, but a ew smiles, judiciously distributed, dis- 
persed them. 

These tea houses are very nice. Bough it, indeed ! If we 
had anything half so neat in America we should do well. The 
rooms are all but bare, sometimes entirely so ; but really I 
should hate to " eat off the floors " for fear of soiling them. I 
have to remove my shoes before entering a tea house. The room 
I'm in now is on the ground floor, just a step or two from the 
ground. The whole sides, which are made of innumerable 
panes of paper, slide open, revealing a little garden almost as 
clean as the room. The floors of the rooms are covered with 
matting and they all open into each other by means of thin 
sliding panels of wood, or heavy paper, or a large sash 
glazed with small panes of thin white paper ; but everything 
about them is scrupulously clean, wooden posts and roof and 
all ; and, being open so much, the air is fresh ; there is no 
odor of cooking, no close, fusty, dusty smell of carpets and 
furniture. 

This house is quite a stylish one. It has a picture on the wall 
of an impossible Japanese gentleman reading an improbable 
scroll, and an aesthetic earthen placque, evidently very ancient, 
and an inscription in Japanese that looks very much as if 
translated, it would read, "God bless our home," or words to 
that effect ; besides a jug of flowers and some mineral speci- 
mens. One room has a large round window, and in it stands a 
tiny goldfish globe on a rack. The gardens are pretty, and I 
don't object at all to the dwarfing or rather curious training of 
the trees. Sometimes it is pretty, as, for instance, over the 
bank of the moat, as we pass out of the gates of Tokio ; the trees 
growing near the edge were trained to spread out like a roof 



60 JAPANESE MANNERS. 

away beyond the edge, and sometimes down the bank. In 
another place a tree is trained to spread all in one way, like a 
comet's tail, making a nice awning for a seat. I saw one tree 
trained in the shape of a boat with a full sail. I could hardly 
believe it was all one tree. 

Whenever I leave a tea house, every one about it bows low and 
says "sianella" and "arigato," or, "good-bye" and "thanks." 
They are very polite, and not intrusive ; on the contrary, even 
in the street the children behave toward strangers better than 
our street "arabs " do if they see anything as unusual to them. 
Instead of being annoyed by their curiosity, when we stop I 
Encourage them to come in and see me when they come peep- 
ing. At the last place I told my guide to tell them they could 
stay in my room, and I had three or four women and two little 
children to entertain me. They are very inoffensive, not a bit 
presuming or aggressive. They showed me pictures and books 
and finally one girl, the sister of the master of the establish- 
ment, gave me a picture of the dancing girl I saw the other 
night, in return I gave her a bit of red ribbon, and sprinkled 
them all with cologne, to their infinite delight. I played 
"gobang" with them, and cultivated them and the children to 
the extreme limit of my Japanese. 

Japan could certainly give America several points in cleanli- 
ness and safety. I slept at Nakade last night in a house that 
opens all over with sliding panels, and was innocent of even 
the mildest form of lock. And I slept, too, with a sense of per- 
fect security. "When I wanted to go to bed I told Take, and ha 
told the girls, and they said good-bye and retired. This morn- 
ing "I was awakened by the mingled sounds of a creaking well- 
sweep, which was kept in active operation, and the sliding open 
of panels on three sides of my room. I rose, therefore, and 
arrayed myself behind the screen that had been placed before 
my bjed last night. I clapped my hands, feeling very oriental 
in the act, and Take appeared with water in a copper basin the 
size and shape of an ordinary sieve. Presently he brought my 
breakfast of eggs, toast, chocolate and rice, which I keep for- 
getting to attend to in the counter interest in the girl who gives 
me a morning call and who is taking a lesson in English. She 
brings a little book, and writes down in Japanese "sugar," 
"salt," "water," "chocolate," and "teapot." 



JAPANESE CLEANLINESS. 6 

After breakfast I depart, carrying with nie the blessings o? 
the establishment and the earnest invitation to come again. I 
brought with me three jars of Leibig's extract of beef, a can of 
condensed milk, ditto sweet corn, ditto apricots, ditto corned 
beef and some candles and bread, salt, pepper, sheets, pillow- 
case, towels, napkins, teaspoon, knife and fork, one bottle of 
claret (I am positively forbidden to drink water), my rug 
shawl, pillow and waterproof, can of chocolate and paper of 
chocolate. 

Utsonomia, Oct. 9th.— Oh, dear ! Is there no escaping civil- 
ization ? I've got a Brussels carpet on my floor ! In a few 
years Japan will be ruined if this thing keeps on. I don't 
suppose its half as uncivilized now as it was when Miss Bird 
was here. I haven't been troubled with fleas at all. San Fran- 
cisco can give Japan a few points on fleas. 

When I say a room in a tea house is absolutely bare of f urni- 
ture, I mean absolutely bare ; I don't mean it has a table, chair, 
bed, bureau and washstand. When I come to the room it 
contains nothing— except that this one has a carpet. When I 
arrive they produce a chair and set it ostentatiously in the 
middle of the floor, and put my pillow on it, under the impres- 
sion, apparently, that that is the American style. Then they 
rummage around and get a table, of unpainted pine, and spot- 
lessly white. In all my travels I have never met with such 
matchless cleanliness ; everything seems to be in a perpetual 
state of newness. The bamboo fence, the outer slides of the 
house, the wooden bucket — everything is glitteringly new. One 
might think these were new houses ; perhaps they are, but I 
notice, as I ride through the towns and cities, that no matter 
what the business of the stores may be, fish market, grocer, or 
manufacturer, you can see right through the house from front 
to back, and all is conspicuously clean. The streets have no 
sidewalks ; there is a two-foot board walk, sometimes, along the 
sides ; but they are occupied by goods for sale, and by the shoes 
or clogs of the occupant, visitors and purchasers. As I have 
said, I have to take off my shoes every time I enter a teahouse; 
that is, step up onto the platform that. divided the room from 
the passage way, which said passage way is about two feet 
below the platform or floor of the room. The floor of the pas- 
sage is earth, and all shoes must be left upon it. 



C' 9 r AJr"ANESE CHILDREN. 

The sliding panels separating the rooms are all thrown open 
in the morning, exposing the entire internal economy to the 
gaze of the general public. Passing along the street in the 
morning, I come across whole families in a state of absolute 
nudity, taking a mormiig bath in the front room. I've no 
doubt whatever that they consider it a very laudable perform- 
ance and worthy of an audience. I see many people along the 
road, woodcutters and field laborers, with only a loin cloth on 
of the most primitive kind, and plenty of children up to nine 
years whose only adornment consists of a circular tuft of hair 
bearing a striking resemblance to a penwiper, on the crown of 
the head. The only apparent use for clothes on a Japanese 
child is to make a pocket on the back for a baby, the babies 
being put inside the kimona (ulster), which is then wrapped 
tightly around the large child and tied around the waist and at 
the back just above the baby's knees. When a baby has lost 
its first youth it is fastened only by a band around its legs, if 
fastened at all, and is expected to hang on with its hands with- 
out further support. 

I can't say as much for the cleanliness of the children as I 
can for the houses ; they are dirty little creatures at best, and 
many of them are afflicted with sore heads and faces, brG^vrht 
on, perhaps, from dirt and neglect. However, they look vei^ 
cunning to me, with their brown skins and black hair, whether 
in their kimonas and wooden clogs or in a state of nature. The 
style of wearing the hair seems to be quite a matter of taste, and 
is as varied as the dress. Many wear the penwiper tuft, large 
or small, the rest of the head being shaven, some leaving a wisp 
of hair over each ear and in the back of the neck. Others have 
one or two or all of these wisps, minus the penwiper ; others 
have the penwiper tied tightly and stuck stiffly together and 
trained like a little stick of wood toward the top of the head ; 
others shave a round spot in the center of the penwiper, and 
others add another fringe of penwiper over the forehead. Others 
still are shaven, or, as we would say, sand-papered all over, the 
hair sometimes being partly gi'own like that of our own young 
Americans. The kimona is a cross between an ulster and a 
dressing gown, and has sleeves reaching to the bottom, or nearly 
so, of the garment, which are made use of as pockets. The 
children seem to arrange their own toilets according to their 



HUMAN HORSES. 63 

own personal fancy or temperature, as I see them getting in or 
out of their kimonas at all times and places. 

Near the houses I see large quantities of thin white rice cakes 
laid out in the sun to dry. They are afterwards taken in and 
ironed instead of being baked or toasted. They are ironed with 
a hot round flatiron to brown them, first on one side and then 
on the other. The stoves are a high bank of earth, topped with 
round metal -raised rims or holes with covers upon them. I see 
cotton in various stages of conversion to clothes, from raw cot- 
ton to cloth coming from the looms worked by women. I see 
in stores everywhere boxes marked " Devoe's Brilliant Oil, Im- 
proved Cans" — another distressing mark of approaching civil- 
ization, I've got a tin kerosene lamp nearly a yard high and 
as slender as a cane. 

My jinricksha men interest me very much. I catch myself 
watching the play of their muscles as they trot along with per- 
fect regularity of motion. They run entirely with the legs and 
with as little movement of the body as possible and show a fine 
development of muscle. They wear trousers just long enough 
to bear the name, and jackets of dark-blue cotton. They are 
forbidden by law to go naked, but they would be much more 
comfortable without the jacket. Doing a horse's work they 
ought to be permitted something like a horse's freedom. 

Nikko, October 10th, 8 P. M. — Have just been besieged by e 
lot of Japanese curio sellers. I made a small purchase of the 
first one that came and after supper he returned to the attack 
with his brothers in trade. They seemed to be quite friendly, 
and instead of resenting each other's presence, were disposed £•». 
give each other a chance. I kept shaking my head at them-= 
" No, no, no," saying " No can buy ;" "Arigato " (thanks), and 
" Sinon " (good-bye), while they turned out their carved ivory, 
brocaded silk and lacquer work for my inspection and pointed 
out the extreme " Ichi ban " (first class) quality of their goods. 
I amused them very much in my struggle with the Japanese 
vernacular, and having seen all their things, I, by way of re • 
sponse, showed them my manifolding book and how it worked. 
They were delighted with the several copies, and we parted 
with mutual satisfaction, although I made no purchases. 

We arrived here at three this afternoon. I am glad I came. 
It is much prettier than I supposed it was. The temple grounds 



64 NIKKO. 

form a sort of park on the side of the hills. Nikko is high up 
and close to the foot of the mountains. It is very picturesque, 
and there is a rushing river with many waterfalls that roar in 
my ears all the time. To get to the temples we cross the river 
on a pretty bridge. Another bridge spans the river only a few 
rods above this one, which is painted a brilliant red and is 
opened only once a year. Saw some temples to-day and shall 
see more to-morrow on my way to some springs, which are 
somewhere or other, and to which I am gong in a kango. I 
particularly enjoy going to places that I don't know anything 
about, even their names. The road here is fine as to scenery 
and most abominable for traveling purposes, being in process 
of reconstruction and covered with broken stone. When I can 
no longer stand the jolting and anxiety for my human horses, 
I insist on walking, though, apparently, they are far from ex- 
pecting such a thing. The sides of the road for miles and miles 
are lined with a thickset row of pine trees, very large and very 
old, three hundred years old, I am told. They are as large as 
any but the largest of the pines in California. They form a 
beautiful vista of long shaded avenue. 

I am beyond any communication with any one I know, alone 
in a strange, uncivilized country, traveling along with five 
men, only one of whom can understand a word I say. He (my 
guide) fancies, I presume, that he speaks English fluently ; 
which is far from the case, however. 

October 11th. — I have been to-day away up into the mountains 
to Chiu-zen-ji, situated on the banks of a lake of that name, 
beyond which as " Satow" says '' rises the sacred mountain of 
Nan-tai-zan." All this I have found out since my return. I 
went there this morning without the remotest idea as to what 
my destination was. Take called it the geysers, but I failed en- 
tirely to observe anything of a geyser character. He probably 
meant falls. I saw some very fine ones. Take evidently con- 
sidered them worth seeing, so I went. I think it is quite for- 
tunate I w^as so ignorant of the sort of journey I Avas to take, 
for had I had the remotest idea of what I was to go through be- 
fore reaching my destination, I should most certainly not have 
undertaken it, and should have lost thereby a most interesting 
jaunt. It was a clear case of ' ' where ignorance is bliss 'tis 
folly," et cetera, and this morning I was literally " not climbing 



THE KANGO. 65 

any mountains until I came to them," so I started out as lively 
as a cricket to go somewhere, and the conveyance was a kang or 
kango. A kango reminds me of nothing so much as a turtle, 
the rider figures as the creature while he reclines on the under 
shell and is sheltered by the upper. The head and tail are 
represented by the bar of wood sticking out at each end, by 
which it is supported. After some consideration and a general 
discussion in choice Japanese as to the best way of getting into 
a kango, I backed into it. I discovered at once that the kango 
had been built without the slightest reference to my hat. So 
after a short effort to reconcile my hat to the roof of the kango, 
I settled the difficulty by taking it off and going bareheaded. 

We went gaily along, I in the kango, two men carrying me 
by means of a pole, running over my head, from which de- 
pended the basket I was in, with a third man to relieve the 
others at intervals and my guide on foot. He told me it was 
seven miles, and you may get some slight conception of the 
quality of those seven miles when I tell you that we Were from 
eight A. M. to six P. M. making the round trip. We went gaily 
along until presently we came to the mountains and proceeded 
to climb. The kango ceased to be of service and became an 
extra burden, for there was nothing but a mountain foot-path, 
and that of the most perpendicular description, varied occasion- 
ally by a flight of stone stairs or logs at intervals to break the 
slant. Then we came down a hill or two. One hill being ex- 
ceptionally steep and sandy I found it more rapid and con- 
venient to slide down on my back. At another place we de- 
scended the side of the mountain by means of a ladder of limbs 
of trees, double ranged, so you couldn't fall through. Finally 
we reached a level, and my spirits were beginning to rise when 
more stairs appeared. Fancy walking up several miles of stairs. 
I might have been carried up, but I couldn't think of requiring 
so much of human beings. 

At one place, being thoroughly exhausted, I consented to be 
carried up a couple of flights with the idea that the worst was 
over, but more and steeper and equally interminable flights hove 
in sight, and I got out again. My guide told me the bearers 
were accustomed to- carrying the people up the stairs and all, 
and that they were very much amused at my ability to climb ; 
they had never seen a woman who could climb so much before. 



66 CHIU-ZEN-JI. 

i think they thoroughly appreciated my consideration in not 
adding niy weight to the kango up those horrible stairs, for 
they showed it in the care for my belongings, the comfortable 
arrangement of my rug and wraps, and by bringing me water 
when I was too exhausted to ask for it or know what I wanted 
(which was quite out of their province, superseding the guide, 
whose business it was to attend to me) when we arrived at a tea 
house. I think the working class of Japanese render their 
service, as a rule, in a more cheerful, willing, even generous, 

fanner than any other class of servants I have met with. But 
I am always well treated. 

Having arrived at Chiu-zen-ji I saw the lake, the mountains, 
and some temples. The place is a Japanese Summer resort, with 
numbers of buildings, all closed, it being out of season now. 
October here is the October of our Eastern States. The place is 
really very pretty, reminding one slightly of the Yosemite, be- 
ing in the heart of the mountains, but not nearly so grand. No 
perpendicular granite heights. The return was much easier, 
though I still had a little climbing and a great deal of rough 
descent where the kango could not go in its normal position. 
And having returned I am glad I accomplished it. Though 
very tired and expecting to be more so to-morrow, I enjoyed 
myself very much. Most of our way was along the course of a 
rushing mountain river. Mountain streams reaching the vil- 
lages are made to run in a two-foot wide, deep, stone gutter 
through the center of the streets. 

Hokone, October 12th. — I started out with my guide early 
this morning to finish the temples, but in reality they finished 
me. Very curious, very unique, very wonderful, but — terrible 
confession to make — I am afraid I don't appreciate temples. My 
tastes are perhaps a trifle aesthetic as regards combinations of 
color, and I don't admire ugly figures, whether they be saints 
or idols. Otherwise there are many pretty things to be seen. 
For instance, the polished black wood, and the hanging curtains 
of bamboo so constructed that you can see through them as if 
they were gauze. But the prettiest things of all were a couple 
of flights of stone stairs. One contains 180 steps in sections 
leading up the hill to the tomb of some gods, with a high stone 
wall on each side of the stairs, and all, stairs, wall and landing 
covered with rich green moss and lichen. The slope is on one 



"ALLE SAME EUROPEAN HOTEL." 6? 

side level with, the top of the" wall, and the hill and wall are 
covered with masses of creeping vine, while outside the wall 
beautiful large trees are growing. I had to stop at each landing 
and turn on the stairs and look forward and back in sheer ad- 
miration of the richness and shading of color. There are some 
lovely pictures here to be caught by an artist some day and put 
on canvas. 

I was quite thrown into a state of excitement last night over 
the arrival of a Frenchman and his wife at the hotel at Nikko. 
I had been happy in the idea that I was the only European or 
Caucasian within two days' journey of Nikko. I left there at 
one P. M. to-day. A jinricksha having only two wheels, and 
the seat being directly over the axle, with no springs to soften 
the jar, one's emotions, can be better imagined than described 
after half a day's journey over alternate stretches of broken stone 
road and hard mud ruts. Having had pleasant weather all the 
way to Nikko and over the mountains, it has gradually turned 
to rain. Fortunately I brought my waterproof, and anyway 
the rain, as I used to be told in my childhood, "will make me 
grow." The hotel at Nikko was what Take described as " alle 
same European hotel." The European part consisted of an ex- 
tra chair, a table with leaves and a phenomenally imperfect 
looking glass. Don't ask me the names of the hotels I stop at 
here. My always imperfect memory for names has been hope- 
lessly wrecked in the encounter with these vocal gymnastics. 

Yokohama, October 15th. — I've got back to Yokohama, and 
a nice entertainment was given for my reception. But I am 
not going to tell about that until I've finished the history of my 
Nikko trip. I left off at Hokone. The next night I was again 
at Nakade, which was really the best, cleanest, quietest stopping 
place I had found. 

My first and last tea house nights were spent at the same 
house. The family were nicer than the average, and they wel- 
comed me back with effusion. With all the sisters and cousins 
and aunts they dropped in to see me until a large party was 
assembled. I played gobang again, with signal misfortune, 
with the mistress of the house, and then sent for Take to act as 
interpreter, and we had a very jolly social time. The little 
eight-year-old girl danced and sang for us while the mistress 
played a Japanese banjo. The little one played the banjo too. 



68 A SOCIAL EVENING 

They told Take that I was different from Europeans they had seen 
before, as I was not proud. 

As I rattled through the villages, the children would all cry 
out something as they pointed to me — sometimes running with 
us a little way — which Take said meant "Look at the 
European," but which I afterward discovered was a mild trans- 
lation of the words signifying literally " red-headed devil." 
European women are very rarely seen in the country and in 
some places where I was, I was told a white woman had never 
been before, though men are quite frequently seen. After a 
very merry evening with my Japanese friends, I went to bed, 
to commence in the morning my last day's journey. At the 
tea house where I took lunch the family came in and sat down 
in a semi-circle on the floor and watched with deepest interest 
the rearrangement of my hair. I could send them away easily 
enough by appealing to Take, but as they were very polite and 
kept their distance and as I was curious about them, I didn't 
see any reason why I shouldn't gratify then curiosity about me. 

Reaching Tokio, Take paid and dismissed the jinricksha men, 
giving them each an extra fee from me, for they were quite 
deserving, whereat they all four came into the depot waiting 
room in a body and prostrated themselves before me on the 
floor with many "arigatos" and "sianellas" and Japanese 
blessings ancl good wishes. All through the journey, even on 
the last day, it was an unfailing source of amusement to them 
when I responded "arigato" to any small service they rendered 
me, or spoke any single Japanese word that I knew. And they 
were very careful of me, careful to tuck my dress in away from 
wheels, brush dust off f rom me, hand me anything, tie my shoes 
if they came undone and see that I had all my baggage with me, 
and never asked to be relieved of the burden of drawing or car- 
rying me no matter how bad the road was. I had four jinrick- 
sha men,two for my jinricksha arid two for my guide's, which 
also contained my provisions and bedding. When the road was 
very bad my guide walked and his extra man turned in to help 
mine. Sometimes I walked too. With fewer men I should 
have been obliged to walk more than I was able. The condition 
of the road was so bad, a great part of the way, that it was as 
much as three men could do to pull and push me over it. The 
two men run tandem. My trip of six full days, made in style 



AN EARTHQUAKE. 69 

as well as comfort, I fancy, with the expense of myself and guide 
— everything included — has cost me a little more than half, per- 
haps two-thirds what the Yosemite trip, five days and a quarter, 
cost me, without guide, with less style and less comfort. My 
guide was valet and cook as well, and I fared better under his 
charge than I did at the hotels on the way to the Yosemite. 

The last two days of my trip were excessively hot and after I 
got back we had a thunderstorm. I was received by the clerk 
of the hotel with effusion. I found the San Pablo had arrived 
on the 13th and brought me only a telegram, which was not in- 
tensely satisfactory after not having heard a word from home for 
more than a month. 

And now for the celebration of my return. I had gone to bed 
and to sleep. I awoke in the morning about half -past four and 
lay wondering what I had waked up for at that hour of the 
night. Presently I found out why. First I heard a distant 
rumbling noise like thunder, which came nearer and nearer, 
and grew louder, until it shook the house, until I thought it 
would fall, like a house of cards. It rocked me in my bed as 
though in a cradle, cracked the walls, stopped the clocks, and 
set all the bric-a-brac in the room a- jingle. This was the cele- 
bration. It was the " mild and balmy earthquake." 

I thought about all the things people did when earthquakes 
took place ; running into the street for instance ; but it occurred 
to me that the street would be as bad a place as any, for bricks 
and stone would fall on me, or the earth would open and swal- 
low me, and I felt as if the soft, comfortable bed was about as 
safe a place as any other ; and anyway I didn't care ; I shouldn't 
get up. So I lay still and held my breath, and waited for the 
ceiling to fall in on me, and quaked a little on my own account, 
till presently the shock had reached its climax and begun to 
diminish. It died away, and then another came. Before the 
loose things had got through jingling they were given a fresh 
impetus. This was not so bad, however, and was soon over, 
and all was quiet but for a trembling and quivering of the earth 
generally. Then I heard voices all about, as if a conclave was 
being held on the subject. But I didn't get up. I had quite 
lost confidence in everything by this time, so I kept still and fell 
into a scientific reverie as to the mechanism of earthquakes, in 
which I concluded that they wore the result of the effort of the 



70 THOUGHTS ABOUT EARTHQUAKES. 

gases to escape, or of electricity generated by the heat, in the 
bowels of the earth, ' ' or words to that effect. " 

And then while I was waiting for more quake I fell 
asleep and dreamed that the best place to be when an earthquake 
was under way was at sea, and that I experienced several very 
fine ones under those circumstances, to my entire satisfaction. 
This morning I was told by residents that this was the worst 
earthquake Yokohama has had for years. They had a similar 
one about four years ago. The one last night threw down some 
chimneys. One man in the hotel raised himself up and, reach- 
ing for matches, was thrown out of bed by the motion. While 
the quaking was going on the fancy came to me that it was a 
laugh rippling over Mother Earth. To-day, being gloomy, it 
seems more like a sigh heaving her bosom. This is not my first 
earthquake. I felt a slight one the day before going to Tokio, 
but it was so slight I would not have noticed it if my attention 
had not been called to it. They say the more you see of earth- 
quakes the less you like them. I think I like them less. 

October l§th. — It blew very hard last night ; there was a 
young typhoon going on somewhere, I think ; and as I live 
right on the water's edge, I heard the sea thrashing about all 
night. It is quite cold and windy to-day. We had another 
earthquake last night, a little one. I woke up just in time to 
feel the earth heaving with one gentle sigh at about four in the 
morning. On the whole, I have concluded I don't mind earth- 
quakes. If there is another to-night I shall propably not wake 
up to observe it. They are amused at me because I didn't get 
up the night before as everybody else did. I think I was wise 
to lie still. I didn't suffer as much from the shock as some 
others, though I felt very queerly for half an hour or more 
afterwards. 

Miya-no-shita, Fuji-ya Hotel, October 17th. — I blush for 
my country. Away up here, a day's journey into the mountain 
fastnesses, where wagons cannot come, I find a hotel that is as 
far superior to the comfortless accommodations afforded the 
hapless traveler at the Yosemite Valley as Delmonico's is to a 
Third Avenue oyster saloon. This place is like the Yos.emite, 
a sight-seeing Summer resort — quite as fashionable, with as 
good a class of visitors, but fewer. At the Yosemite, at the best 
hotel, they put you in a room like a square wooden box, the 



A JAPANESE HOTEL. 71 

ceiling- of which is no higher than the top of the door. The 
room contains only a hard, cold, comfortless bed, a wooden 
washstand, chair, small lookingglass and a fraction of candle ; 
and the cuisine is wretched. This hotel is managed by a Jap- 
anese man and his wife, who speak English. The servants 
speak only Japanese. The cuisine is excellent ; the rooms are 
large, high and light. I have a luxurious bed, a delightful re- 
clining chair, two clean white pine tables, a good kerosene 
lamp, and a whole new candle, besides washstand, looking- 
glass, two straight chairs, pretty, bright wallpaper, straw 
matting on the floor, and a convenient and delightful bath. 
How is that for the interior of a country to which we send mis- 
sionaries ? 

The Japanese bathe a great deal. I used to hear my jinrick- 
sha men bathing half the night at the tea houses, and they 
bathed pretty thoroughly at every stopping place on the road, 
that is, about six times a day. But, nevertheless, the children's 
faces are simply disgusting. The pride of the Japanese heart is 
the floor. Their children, their clothing, food, streets may 
reek with dirt, but their floors are always spotlessly clean. 

I left Yokohama this morning at eight o'clock in a carriage 
which brought me along a road they call the Tokaido, to with- 
in four or five miles of this place, the remaining miles being 
made in a kango. This time I travel quite alone without guide 
or acquaintance. As I think I have said before, the people 
who are of the most use to me are the people I should expect 
the least of — the casual acquaintances of travel. My letters of 
introduction serve to fix my standing with these acquaintances 
after they have formed their opinion of me personally ; other- 
wise they result simply in formal calls and an interchange of 
cards. 

The manager of the Windsor Hotel has been of great service 
to me and very kind indeed ; he sent me up here with a card to 
the proprietor which insured me the warmest reception and his 
personal attention ; and fancy my surprise at receiving a note 
here, immediately on my arrival, from the Diplomat who is 
now on the way to Pekin, containing a letter of introduction 
to the Governor of Hong Kong. He writes that he has spoken 
about me to the Governor and that he is a very kind man. It 
-teems that the Diploma, like the Paymaster, spent his last few 



72 LAKE HAKONE. 

moments in Yokohama in an effort to smooth my path of travel 
as I go. I think it is so good of them to think of me at all. 

October 18th. — I went to-day on a long tour over a mountain 
trail to Lake Hakone. A boat carried me across the lake to the 
town of Hakone, where I took lunch. Ou this trip I had no 
guide, but got on nicely with my three Japanese kango bearers, 
one of whom knew a word or two of English. I was waited on 
at the tea house by Japanese girls, as usual, who spread out the 
lunch my bearers had brought for me from the hotel, adding 
tea and rice to it and looking at me curiously the while. 

From the tea house a very fine view of Fugiama's symmetri- 
cal cone was obtained as it rose against the sunny sky across 
the bay. It certainly does look "calm " with its gentle, regular 
slopes, pale tints and snowy crown. We take to the boat again, 
and go the length of the lake to the sulphur baths. One large 
bath is a square tank, into which a natural spring flows, sur- 
rounded by a square building. Descending a short flight of 
stone steps I observe several Japanese are enjoying a bath 
there at that moment, and I retreat. 

From the baths I am carried in the kango a long distance up 
a very steep, winding and muddy path, and finally we reach 
the geysers and I must walk. The geysers are very similar to 
those I saw in California, only these are much more extended. 
They occupy the whole side of a mountain, and the whole place 
is overhung with a cloud of steam as dense as a fog, that rises 
from the innumerable boiling springs. The place seems to be 
all boiling water underneath, and all yellow and green sulphur, 
burnt rocks, and lava on the surface. I think it is a very dan- 
gerous place to travel over, but at last we got across it, after a 
very slow tedious climb, picking our way laboriously over the 
rough surface, between springs and burnt pits and hollow 
crusts. This difficult p.'ace once passed, we descended a very 
steep but short path, ant 1 , then I was requested to return to the 
kango ; and in a couple of hours my bearers had carried me 
safely back to the hotel. 

October 19th. — To-day 1 1 ook a long walk under the guidance 
of Mr. Yamaguchi, proprietor of this hotel. The first thing 
that attracted my attention especially was the appearance of 
little crabs promenading the mountain paths. I thought crabs 
belonged to the water and was .quite unaware of their apparent 



A BEAUTIFUL VIEW. 73 

predilection for climbing mountains. The scenery up here 
among the mountains is beautiful. There are many charming 
views worthy of a painter. One in particular struck me as 
very fine. You stand on a narrow dividing ridge and look 
into two mountain-enclosed, horseshoe-shaped valleys, one on 
either hand, each containing waterfalls and a winding stream. 
Indeed, waterfalls are all over the place ; the sound of falling 
water is ever in one's ears. I am lulled to sleep by it at night 
and wakened by it in the morning. 

There is another sound, however, that is always in my ears, 
and that is the sound of squabbling and f retf ulness in the next 
room to me, occupied by a young clergyman and his wife and 
baby. He is a tease and she is a shrew — two dispositions ad- 
mirably adapted for making things uncomfortable for each 
other, not to mention their next door neighbors. The other 
people stopping here are three English tourists, who are en- 
gaged in a perfectly hopeless struggle with the vernacular and 
who are getting a great deal of fun out of it. Occasionally 
they make some remark about Americans, while dining, that 
amuses me. We are a good deal interested in each other, but 
we conceal the interest ; in fact, we ignore each others exis- 
tance. At least I ignore theirs, while they always get tangled 
up in a sentence with distracted attention when I enter or leave 
the dining room. They are wondering who I am, and what I 
mean by being up here alone. 

I left Miya-no-shita, as I arrived, in a kango ; but my bearers 
carried me down the seven miles much more quickly than they 
had brought me up. The loveliness of the scenery about Miya- 
no-shita and its approach compensates for the difficulty of access, 
however. I found a coach from Yokohama waiting for me at 
the foot of the hills, but as the driver was a Japanese who did 
not speak any English, instead of the colored man who drove 
me hither, I was obliged to make my wants known without an 
interpreter at the tea house where I stopped for lunch. But I 
got along nicely, and secured all the rice and salt and tea I 
wanted. I got over the dimculy of finding out the amount of 
my bill by offering several pieces of money and letting the girl 
take her choice. She selected the one of the smallest denomin- 
ation, and gave me in return eight oblong pieces of copper, 
about three inches long by two wide and an eighth of an inch 



74 DELICATE WARES. 

thick, with a square hole in the center. I weighed them in my 
hand, and, keeping a couple of them as souvenirs, handed the 
rest back to the girls, intimating that my pockets and strength 
were unequal to the task of hauling copper in such large quan- 
tities. 

I reached Yokohama before night, and was welcomed back 
by my very kind and helpful friends there. The gentlemanly 
manager of the hotel took me shopping, and displayed a fine 
taste in delicate Japanese silks and embroidery. These beauti- 
ful fabrics seemed strangely cheap considering their fine 
texture, purity of quality, and the elaborate work upon them. 
One is sorely tempted by the dainty crepes of most delicate 
tints, the brilliant embroidered screens, and the comfortable 
embroidered silk dressing gowns, wadded and quilted, with 
trains, and yet so light that nothing can be quite so warm and 
cosy and at the same time not at all burdensome to wear. The 
embroidery upon them is coarse silk and very elaborate. 

Another industry that produces very beautiful and artistic re- 
sults is that of making vases of cloisinee. These vases have for 
their foundation copper, on which a fine copper wire is laid 
twisted into forms or figures of leaves, flowers, butterflies, 
birds, or whatever design is chosen. The spaces formed by the 
wire are then filled with a paste, colored according to the 
flowers or figure represented, the groundwork being usually a 
deep china blue. The whole is then polished, leaving a very 
rich and elaborate picture outlined by the fine threads of copper 
wire. 

We are all more or less familiar with the lacquer-work of 
Japan, but here we find it in profusion and ranging from wood 
floors to the most delicate card cases of gold lacquer, the lightest, 
most dainty little receptacle for cards in the world. Very large 
and beautiful cabinets can be seen of lacquer inlaid with pearl. 
Satsuma ware is another fascinating industry in Japan, and 
many beautiful bowls and plates were shown me most artisti- 
cally decorated. But the shops of Japan would form an endless 
chapter if I began to do them justice. I will only say they are 
very attractive and rich in beautiful and artistic work. 

I have been once more to Tokio, where Lord Dundreary met 
Aie and took me to the Japanese theatre of which I shall write 
Jater., 



KOBE. 75 

I announced my intention to proceed on my way towards 
China, which horrified my friends very much. I had not half 
seen Japan, they said, and I was promised such sights and ex- 
periences if I would only stay one more week. But my mind 
was made up to go, and go I would. The manager of the hotel 
found me a special opportunity in the shape of ' ' Walsh & 
Hall's " own steamer to go to Kobe in. He introduced me to the 
captain, got for me the owner's own room, a palatial apartment 
with desk and chair and every convenience, wrote to Mr. Walsh 
and secured the passage and told him what day I wanted to go, 
and was hard at work in my behalf generally until I was off ; 
finally taking me on board himself in the steam launch and 
extending the same courtesy to Mr. Walsh as a measure in my 
behalf. He also gave me a letter of introduction to probably 
one of the loveliest captains in the world, whom I saw at the 
Windsor when I first arrived, and whom I am hoping to overtake 
at Shanghai. The Kamchatka is a vessel that takes a yearly 
voyage to Siberia for furs for Walsh, Hall & Co. Mr. Walsh 
was the only other passenger. 

The steamer sails at five. An easy chair is elevated to the 
bridge, and I take up my position in it, wrapped in my rug, and 
only leave it for eating and sleeping purposes. One lovely, 
bright day — in which I disgrace myself by being seasick for 
half an hour with positively no provocation except a choppy 
sea and the screw, directly over which I was trying to dine — 
and two lovely moonlight nights, and we reach Kobe on the 
second lovely morning. Mr. Walsh arranges that my trunks 
shall be transferred direct to the " Mhitsu-Bitsu " steamer when 
she arrives, takes me ashore, introduces me to his brother, takes 
me to the Walsh & Hall office, introduces me to Mr. Hall. 
Mr. Walsh says " This lady wants a room secured for her on 
the Yokohama Maru. This lady also wants a guide to take her 
to Kioto, and lastly this lady wants some lunch." Mr. Hall 
immediately proceeds to achieve for me all of these desires. 

Mr. Walsh takes me to the Hotel des Colonies for lunch, 
where I dine table d'hote and air my French. Mr. Hall comes 
after me, producing not only a guide but a guide book "Sa- 
tows" (I have them "fired "at me from every quarter). Mr. 
Hall takes me to the depot, Mr. Walsh meets me there, likewise 
the guide ; all three combine to get my ticket. I am introduced 



76 KIOTO. 

to three Etropeans who are going further than Kioto, and so, 
after saying good-bye to Messrs. Walsh and Hall I have com- 
pany still all the way, and arrive at Kioto at five o'clock 
loaded to the muzzle with valuable information. Here my 
guide takes charge of me, and after half an hour in a jinricksha 
I arrived at the " Ya-Ami " Hotel. 

Ya-Ami Hotel, Kioto, October* 28th. — Kioto is the neatest of 
all Japanese cities. In Kioto the streets are almost as clean as 
the floors. I noticed in riding through the city no ashes, no 
mud, no garbage, no dust, and even about the fish markets not 
a scrap of refuse or dirt in the gutters. I never saw a street in 
A.merica to compare with these streets of Kioto. Tokio doesn't 
compare with it. In proportion to the houses, which are as 
low as we would. build a one story house but have, many of 
them, two stories compressed in that compass, the streets seem 
wide. The apology for a sidewalk, and a fourth of the street 
on either side, are occupied with goods, curios and everything, 
spread out on the ground. Having gone to the theatre last 
evening, I rode through the streets at an early and a late hour. 
Going, the streets were alive with people and wares and paper 
lanterns ; coming back, everything was taken in, shutter slides 
closing the fronts of the houses ; no windows, nothing left but 
miles of clear, clean street and paper lanterns on the front of 
houses, an occasional watchman and plenty of hurrying jin- 
rickshas with people going, like me, home from the theatre at 
midnight. 

The Japanese are far in advance of the Chinese as actors. I 
was glad I did not go to the theatre until after I had been 
about Japan a little and become acquainted with their ways, for 
I appreciated the extreme naturalness of their acting more 
than I should otherwise have done. On the stage the Japanese 
appeared and acted and spoke as I had seen them in the tea 
houses. In Tokio their scenery was very good ; the play was of 
a very murderous, superstitious order, while their mode of ex- 
pression was true to nature. The story was easy, in part, to 
understand. It appeared to be the old tale of a drunken, repro- 
bate husband, a poverty-stricken home, lonely, despairing wife, 
crying baby, and faithful servant. In the first act the brutal 
husband comes home drunk, demands money, and takes the 
mosquito net that shields the baby to sell It. The wife fights 



JAPANESE THEATRES. 77 

for this protection for her child until she has been seriously 
hurt ; after which she kills herself and the servant is killed by 
the husband, who then gets them out of sight, while a new and 
wealthy wife is waiting with her servants and goods at the gate. 
A sort of Bluebeard story ; and all this mischief is worked by a 
cat, who goes about bewitching the dramatis personse and 
driving them to dreadful deeds. They excel in the art of de- 
picting the ghastly, as in the running of a sword through a 
man's body and giving it an additional thrust and twist before 
taking it out again. The unfortunate man's seemingly in- 
voluntary physical contortion was in perfect keeping with the 
movement of that sword. I admired the art if I could not 
appreciate the taste of the performance. 

The next act was a water scene, very pretty, natural and 
artistic, with the exception of a hole in the water cloth in the 
center, which the audience was expected to kindly overlook, 
which was intended for the reception of the people who were to 
be drowned in the course of the evening, and afterwards fished 
for. I think ultimately these unfortunates arose from the 
water and haunted and destroyed their murderers, but I did not 
wait to see. In the course of the play, one man had his fingers 
broken one by one, with an accompanying snap and agony for 
each finger, and another had been run through the body with a 
sword several times ; two people had been decapitated and two 
or three others drowned, for the edification of the audience. 

The stage was round, and to change the scene they simply 
turned it about like any turn table. The scene shifters and 
supes seem to be hovering around the performers a good deal 
of the time. They have their heads covered with a black hood 
and are supposed to be invisible, as is also the case with the men 
who cany lighted candles on the ends of very long limber 
sticks, which they hold under the noses of the performers so 
that you can see the expression, a performance that really de- 
feats its own object, as you can really distinguish less behind 
the flickering bobbing candle than in a steady semi-light. The 
orchestra or parquet of the theatre is like a checker board set on 
a slant, with the squares sunk in, forming so many square 
wooden boxes. Each box holds four people and a pot of hot 
ashes to light pipes by, and the people walk on the narrow par- 
titions to get to their respective boxes. The two aisles are on a 



78 JAPANESE ACTORS. 

level with, the stage and the top edge of the partitions ; the 
artists making their exits and their entrances by them stopping 
and carrying on their dialogue and performance on them mid- 
way between the balcony and the stage. When an actor enters 
he is followed or led by a supe poking the candle, fastened on 
the end of the long rod in front of him all the way to the stage, 
where, if he sits down, the candle, long stick and all, are placed 
on the floor before him. The curtain is a rag and a very thin 
rag at that. There is a single row of balcony boxes on either 
side of the theatre, and they are the best seats. The lighting is 
done by candles and kerosene lamps suspended from bars by 
cords at different heights. 

At the Kioto theatre the acting, stage and arrangements were 
not so good ; there they had four or five tall pieces of black 
metal, convex in shape, behind and within which candles were 
placed as footlights, but they interfered sadly with one's view of 
the stage. There I saw three plays in one evening. One was ap- 
parently a comedy. Their comedy, while good and natural, is 
of rather a buffoon type but very well done. One actor was 
extremely good in the varying expression of his face — on 
receiving a fee wrapped in paper, as they give them here among 
themselves — from the look of pleased expectation to one of dis- 
appointment and disgust and rage at finding the paper empty. 
These changes of expression were repeated in various forms 
and the business was exceedingly good, natural and amusing. 
After this came an old tragedy, which answered to our legitimate 
play and is correspondingly uninteresting. The recitative was 
done in an unnatural, sing-song tone and was very lugubrious. 
After that came a comedy drama, nothing more nor less than a 
Japanese "Pygmalion and Galatea," during which they had a 
comedy laughing and crying scene that was exceedingly well 
done. It appeared that a man put a crying powder in one man's 
tea and laughing powders in the tea of two others. The results 
were extremely natural and effective. 

While the methods of Japanese acting are exceedingly clever 
and natural, the plots are distinctly supernatural. Between 
the acts one can have dinner brought into the boxes, and the 
children run up and down on the platform aisles and try to act, 
and be funny, and dodge in and out from under the flimsy rag 
of a curtain that hangs between the stage and the audience. I 



SHOOTING DANGEROUS RAPIDS. 79 

went to another little theatre which corresponded to our dime 
museums, where the performers gave as a wonderful exhibition 
in the way of manipulating barrels and ladders, with small boys 
on them, on their feet, while a man lauded their merits in em- 
phatic Japanese to slow music. 

An interesting and picturesque trip was suggested to me as a 
very dangerous undertaking, as it involved shooting some 
rapids and I should run the risk of getting drowned in that 
perilous operation. As I am in search of adventure, and this 
excursion seemed to offer some promise of "hair-breadth 
escapes " and so forth, I immediately resolved to invite my own 
destruction at once by taking the trip. 

I started out in the morning with my guide, the neatest, most 
dapper, kid-gloved Japanese dandy, in jinrickshas, racing 
merrily through the streets of Kioto and across a very long 
bridge that spans a river whose waters are half concealed with 
the immense leaves of the lotus that grows luxuriantly here. 
We then plunged into the country, and climbed up high among 
the mountains, until we came to the stream we meant to de- 
scend in a boat. Here we found boats and men awaiting us. 
The boats were large, flat-bottomed, shallow affairs, constructed 
of thin, flexible wood that bent and undulated with the pressure 
of rocks underneath as they passed over them. They were large 
enough to receive me in my jinricksha so I did not have to 
alight, but was lifted on board by my bearers and sat in my 
carriage throughout the trip with the shafts propped up to keep 
me from being spilled. The boatmen then pushed off the slen- 
derly built boat, guiding it into the current, and down the stream 
we sped, carried along by the force of the rushing water. 

I was rather disappointed at finding the water was hardly 
deep enough to drown a person anywhere. The rapids were 
not so very rapid, the descent being quite gradual, but there 
were a good many of them. I thought them rather tame rapids 
at first, but on the whole found it quite exciting to be swept over 
rocks with a rush of water and down the hurrying stream be- 
tween the high and verdure clad mountains through which the 
river winds. Now and then we got caught among the jutting 
rocks and were pushed off laboriously by the boatmen with long 
pole*, ^hile the pliable floor of the boat yielded and bent above 
ihe stones below. The boatmen were very skillful in their 



80 SKILLFUL BOATMEN. 

management of the boat, dextrously avoiding 1 the big rocks that 
jutted up from the river bed on every side, pushing off with their 
long poles from a threatening collision with one great granite 
boulder only to encounter another. The river is sometimes 
quite wide but usually narrow and always rocky, sometimes 
descending miniature falls, over which we glide with an ex- 
citing rush. Altogether I am charmed with the beauty of the 
scene and the novelty of the situation, though my ardent desire 
for something thrillingly adventurous was not gratified. 

Having passed all the rapids I and my jinricksha were taken 
out of the boat, and we got lunch at a tea house that was perched 
up among the rocks on the hillside overlooking the river. As 
usual, I cultivated the girls to the extent of my Japanese. They 
examined my hat, and feathers, and dress, and the buttons on 
my ulster, minutely. They were surprised when I opened my 
bracelet, and delighted when I took it off and fastened it on 
then wrists each in turn. After lunch I got in my jinricksha 
again, and my boys started off with me at a brisk trot that never 
slackened until they had carried me to Kioto and through ite. 
long, narrow, dainty and interesting streets to the Ya-ami 
hotel. 

After having exchanged a perfect fusilade of visiting cards 
both here and in Yokohama with an American lady who resides 
in Japan, we at last succeeded in meeting each other to-night, 
and spent a pleasant evening together. 

On board S. S. Yokohama Maru, Kobe, Japan, October 
2Qth. — Good fortune, good fortune, good fortune wherever I go, 
whatever I do. Everything turns to my advantage and all the 
people I meet are so kind to me. Arrived at Kobe I go direct 
to Walsh & Hall's office ; they settle my accounts with my 
guide, produce my ticket, send to the Kamchatka for my 
baggage, trot me around in search of a new stylus for my book 
and crystal for my watch, as I've broken the one and lost the 
other, and finally bring me off in the Kamchatka's boat, 
with her captain and Mr. Walsh, to this steamer, where I am 
introduced to Purser and Captain and am received right royally, 
refreshed with tea and cake, and made generally comfortable 
and happy ; and then, having invoked the kindness and pro- 
tection of the Captain in my behalf, my two Mends bid me a 
very kindly farewell. 



THE INLAND SEA. 81 

This is a new steamer. It is her second voyage. The Captain 
is a jolly Englishman ; I sit next to him at table. I've an upper 
deck stateroom, and I am to live on the bridge. There is only 
one other lady passenger, and the stewardess is a Chinese WO- 
mau. 

October 30th. — The weather proves nne, as I had foretold, 
spite of all the signs to the contrary and the prophecies of the 
^eatherwise. I find the scenery of the famous Inland Sea of 
Japan very pretty, though I have read and heard such glowing 
eulogies of its beauties that I am perhaps not as enthusiastic in 
my admiration of it as I might otherwise be. There are bright 
skies, clear waters, abrupt banks, and green islands that com- 
bine to make very charming pictures as we thread our way 
around curves and through narrow passes, under the shadow of 
miniature cliffs and out upon open reaches of clear sea. It is, in 
fact, like nearly all of Japanese scenery — beauty on a miniature 
scale. My scepticism k rather awakened by the frequency with 
which I am told that the n:ost beautiful points were passed while 
I was at breakfast, or at four o'clock in the morning, or at any 
time at which I have not been on deck, though I have made it 
my business to be there not only % all day but up till a very late 
hour at night if any of these finest points were expected to be 
passed. I think these announcements of beauties passed at un- 
seemly and unexpected seasons are very suspicious. I have, 
however, enjoyed all that I have seen and every hour spent on 
the Yokohama Maru. By moonlight the whole scene is most 
charming. The shimmering light on the water and the shadows 
thrown by the jutting promontories and islands, the irregular 
outlines of hills and cliffs upon the evening sky, enhance the 
beauty seen by the more practical light of day. We reach Na- 
gasaki at 4 A. M; October 31st. 

Before noon I went ashore to lunch and then to make the tour 
of Nagasaki. I saw all that was to be seen there, scenery and 
tortoise shell and porcelain work. The fanciful creations in 
tortoise shell interested me most, so dainty were they in con- 
struction, so rich and clear in the polish of the material itself. 
I was especially attracted by the miniature jinricksha made of 
tortoise shell. 

In driving through the streets we saw a fencing match, which 
was literally one of the jousts which used to take place between 



82 JAPAN, ADIEU. 

the knights of the middle ages, except that this was performed 
on foot instead of on horseback. Each man wore a helmet on 
his head with bars across the face, and fought with a long 
wooden spear. Occasionally the contestants sat down on the 
ground to rest. 

Having finished Nagasaki, I returned on board the Yoko- 
hama Maru and sailed at eight P. M. for China. 



CHINA. 

Astor House, Shanghai, November 2d. — Coming across to 
Shanghai we had lovely weather and a smooth sea. When I 
awoke this morning we were already on the reddish-yellow 
waters of the Yangtsekiang, and before noon we had reached 
Shanghai. The hospitable Captain commands two or three of 
us to stay on board to lunch, after which he takes me to this 
hotel, and after that out riding on the "bubbling well " road to 
see the famous bubbling well. 

Shanghai is very pretty at the bund, but it is grievously lack- 
ing in the way of drives or surrounding scenery. The whole 
country about is one promiscuous graveyard. Irregular mounds 
and uncovered coffins are to be seen in every direction. In 
flower gardens or grain fields the cultivation often extends to 
the very base of the grave, and even the grave itself is a mound 
of ripening grain. The jinricksha is in vogue here, and an- 
other vehicle, which is a wheelbarrow with a board seat 
set lengthwise in the center, one person sitting on each side of 
it. I have seen several of the small-footed women with feet 
literally of the size of a baby's. I have been inside the walls 
of the city of Shanghai ; but a few rods within the gates was an 
ample sufficiency for me, for the narrow streets were one mov- 
ing mass of Chinamen and one solid smell, unlimited in quan- 
tity and disagreeable in quality. I miss the politeness and good 
nature of the Japanese, but observe no hostility towards us. 

The only indication of war in the country is the live look of 
the forts, as we enter the harbor, which are swarming with 
soldiers. Indeed, the nearer we get to the seat of war the denser 
the ignorance and the scarcer the news of it becomes. In New 
York they know all about the Chinese war ; in San Francisco a 
good deal, in Japan a little, but in China they know nothing at 
all about it. The Captain invites me to go and dine on board ship 
again, afterwards takes me for a walk about the city, and then 
returns me to the hotel. So ends my first day in China. 

November 4th. — To-day is election day in America, I sup- 
pose, and you are all at a white heat of excitement over it. I 
never took any interest in politics at home, but here in China I 



84 SHANGHAI. 

do. I talk politics with gentlemen until they call me a politi- 
cian. 

I have been out again to-day in search of purchases and memen- 
toes of travel to send home. The part of Shanghai outside the 
walls is quite different from either the Chinatown of San Fran- 
cisco or the Chinese city here within the walls. It has broad 
streets, and the shops are well ordered and comparatively clean. 
I don't see as many children here as in Japan. The Chinese 
waiters wear a long blue cotton gown over their dress, which 
creates quite a breeze as they stride around in the dining 
room. 

I fail to see the reason for fearing the Chinese in America. 
The idea that they can ever permanently throw out American 
labor seems to me a mistaken one. Working cheaply and doing 
precisely as they are told without making the mistake of thinking 
for themselves seems to me to be their only virtue. On the other 
hand, they are dirty in their habits, slovenly in their work and 
stupid. The Japanese are far brighter, more polite and more 
agreeable people to have about. Look, for instance, in Amer- 
ica at the sort of washing done by the Chinese. It is all gloss 
and no cleanliness. In San Francisco I pined for a good Irish 
washerwoman. I am certain I should never employ a China- 
man to wash for me if I could get an Irish, Dutch or American 
woman to do it. I think I have the very stupidest of all the 
Chinese waiters to wait on me at this house. 

Steamer Verona, off Woosong, China, November Uh. — 
Singapore is now my objective point. I only take Hong Kong 
by the way. I came down here this morning, being brought on 
board by my friend the Captain of the Yokohama Maru, in a 
tender. The rest of the passengers are to come down to-night 
at one o'clock. The company sent me word yesterday that the 
tender would come out to- the Verona this morning at half 
past eleven ; consequently the hotel runner and all the Chinese 
servants were hurrying me off under the mistaken notion she 
was going at ten. I convinced them of their error, and having 
been scared into being ready to start an hour too early, I waited 
only for the Captain and then started in search of a new stylus. 
On this excuse I got him into a store where I had purchased a 
lovely little musical box at a very small price, whose virtues I 
had been singing to him for two days, and made him listen 



AN ENGLISH STEAMER. 85 

to all the tunes of all the music boxes in the shop heft/re going 
on board the tender. 

I had been looking on myself as a sort of supernatural idiot 
for going on board at eleven in the morning in order to come 
down here and lie off all day, when I might be seeing more of 
Shanghai and then get off without haste at eleven to-night. 
But when I saw the arrangement I was to come off in I con- 
gratulated myself on my intuition and judgment, for the ten 
minutes I spent in reaching the steamer gave me quite a suffi- 
cient acquaintance with the tender. To-night I should have had 
to stand up in her in the cold and wet and dirt for an hour and 
a half, she being nothing but a bare black piece of machinery 
without so much as a rail to sit on. The name of this beautiful 
craft does not rise to the situation. It is quite inadequate to the 
occasion. Her name is Minnie. To get on board of her I had 
to climb up and around and over another craft of her own sort, 
only larger. Having got on board the Yerona the Captain sees 
the Verona's Captain, who is sick in bed, but who promises to 
get well and get up to-morroW and pay me every attention. I 
am then confided to the tender mercies of the Chief officer, and 
having done everything that the most anxious friend could 
think of for my comfort, the Captain of the Yokohama 
Maru bids me good bye and wishes me success, and departs to 
look after his own steamer, which sails a few hours later than 
this. And so I am still the highly recommended passenger to 
whom all honor is to be shown. 

On board the Yerona I find myself practically in England. 
This is an English line (Peninsula and Oriental), and officers 
and cabin servants are all English. I am the only lady passen- 
ger, and there are but few gentlemen. They come down to- 
night at 1 A. M. and we sail soon after. The Doctor and Chief 
officer are very nice Englishmen. I think I'm to have a pleas- 
ant voyage. We shall reach Singapore in about fifteen days. 

I am a good deal interested in Pigeon English. The China- 
men announce a lady visitor as "one piecee lady." 

November 8th. — We are approaching Hong Kong. For two 
whole days it rained incessantly, and on this steamer they 
have no upper deck saloon at all ; in fact, no place for the 
passengers but their staterooms and the long, dark ' ' subterra- 
nean" dining saloon in wet weather. Everybody felt very 



86 HONG KONG. 

uncertain on the score of breakfast, but no one confessed it but 
me. Everybody looked very rigid and severe. My expression 
of entire loss of confidence in digestive apparatus found a sym- 
pathetic echo in every heart. My neighbor at table proved to 
be a young Englishman, for whom the proprietor of the hotel 
was scouring Shanghai, in order to introduce him to me. We 
recognized each other as the much talked of, long looked for, 
and have been all but inseparable for two days. I leave this 
young gentleman in Hong Kong, but expect to see him again 
in Calcutta. We have a Chinese merchant on board as first 
class passenger, who has his own opinion of America. He 
speaks very good English and reads it as well. He seems to be 
afflicted with egotism. 

Hong Kong, November 8th. — To begin with it has one of the 
prettiest harbors in the world, and secondly Hong Kong itself is 
very pretty and pleasant. All the way along, whenever I have 
mentioned Hong Kong to other people, it has been disposed of 
in the one expressive word, ' ' hot. " I confess to its having been 
rather warm the day of my arrival, but after that was pleasantly 
cool. The first morning, Sunday, we went to the summit of 
the Island of Kong Kong, which appears to be nothing but a 
mountain thrown up out of the sea. From the summit — and 
in fact all the way up the road — is to be seen one of the loveliest 
views of sea and land conceivable. The harbor is truly a beau- 
tiful one. The journey up was represented to me as extremely 
fatiguing and there were serious doubts expressed about my 
being able to go all the way, but as a matter of fact it turned 
out to be a ridiculously smooth, well kept, level road, consider- 
ing it led to the top of a rather abrupt mountain. After my 
mountain travels in Japan I laughed its difficulties to scorn. 
We were carried up in chairs by Chinese coolies, of whom it 
takes four to carry one person in China and only three in 
Japan. The Chinese are larger than the Japanese, but more 
angular and far less pleasing, and for sheer stupidity commend 
me to the Chinamen. At the hotel we had to give our orders 
to half a dozen waiters before we could finally get what we 
wanted. 

The American Consul, John R. Mosby, called on me. He 
came direct from the Governor of Hong Kong, to whom I had 
sent my letter of introduction, with an invitation to tea at the 



AN INVITATION TO TEA. 87 

Government House, which I accepted, and we went at once ; 
was received by the Governor cordially and introduced to more 
Consuls. Our Consul was broken hearted over the announce- 
ment of the election of Cleveland. I had a pleasant chat with 
these people, a walk around the gardens, and some tea, after 
which I was sent home with an immense bouquet. 

The English gentleman proved very nice. We went together 
to the hotel, dined and breakfasted and " tiffined " together ; 
and when he was not trotting around with me, he was looking 
up something for me. We did not get to Canton. I could 
have gone up and returned just in time to catch my steamer, 
but should have been able to see so little, and been so hurried, 
that I did not try it. In the present state of affairs one can 
only be hurried through the streets with a government guard ; 
one can't stop a moment for fear of creating a disturbance. I 
thought it not worth while. With all my acquaintance with 
China I saw but one pretty girl.' She was a little thing of 
seven, with a band of long black fringe fastened around her 
head, that was very effective. Finally, after "trapsing" the 
city over looking at musical boxes and carved ivory in a vain 
search for a certain kind of card box and wooden figures 
my young English friend took me aboard the Verona, which 
soon sailed, leaving him desolee at Hong Kong, with twelve 
tiresome days on his hands before his particular steamer sails. 
I expect to meet him again at Singapore and again at Calcutta, 
for which I am r glad, for although very young he has been a 
very agreeable traveling companion. 

It is now November 13th, and we have been two nights at 
sea, one pretty rough one, and my berth being crosswise I slid 
up and down it all night, a la cellar door. And now a change 
comes over the spirit of my travels. There are no gentlemen 
on board except the Captain and Chief officer with whom I 
wish to be acquainted. I therefore ignore them all, wilfully 
and persistently, until they are fain to accept the bann that is 
put on them and sleep and smoke and read the tiresome days 
away. The Captain I have at last seen. He is very pleasant, 
but is still confined to his room with gout. The Chief officer 
has, therefore, to do double duty, but such time as he has he 
gives to me. The rest of the time I am very glad to retire 
within myself and contemplate my virtues. For recreation I 



88 AN ARMOR OF ICE. 

have made a young- lady, who is traveling alone, and who 
suffers dreadfully with seasickness, my charge. I doctor her 
and sympathize with her and amuse her by turns. She doesn't 
expect to he well until we reach Singapore on the 16th, and has 
been sick at sea for six weeks at a time. 

There is one more lady on board, traveling with her husband. 
She, too, is seasick and they, and all the passengers indeed, look 
on me running about the deck and coming ravenously down to 
the dining saloon four times a day, with mixed feelings of envy 
and admiration. This lady and gentleman, Mr. and Mrs. Few, 
are a curious pair. They have been taking a more extensive 
tour than mine and are going to Java. I expect we shall 
be fellow travelers as far as Calcutta. They are ancient, 
gray haired, bald, chipper, and inseparable. They twitter 
venerable affection at each other all over the ship. To me 
the sight of two devoted elderly people is both pleasant and 
refreshing. 

It is hot, red hot, blazing hot, and they promise that it shall 
be hotter at Singapore and hottest at Java. So be it. It is very 
nice loafing under the awning on deck. Of course at the last I 
begin to get acquainted a little with some of the gentlemen on 
board ship. Women are always very much in the minority on 
the steamers, so on arriving on board I find a dozen or more 
gentlemen all more or less bent on forming my acquaintance. 
I am immediately bent on not having my acquaintance formed, 
to which end I try to look as forbidding as possible. I ignore 
their presence at dinner or on deck. I pass them as if they did 
not exist. I promenade the deck amongst them, but alone and, 
wrapped in an armor of ice. I sit a little apart, gazing on 
space, but evidently absorbed in my own reflections. In a day 
or two they are the most unobtrusive and thoroughly tamed set 
of gentlemen you ever saw. Then I may relax a little the 
severity of my demeanor. Having frozen my fellow passengers 
to veritable icebergs I proceed to thaw, and oh ! most incon- 
sistent of feminine creatures, five minutes after the ice is broken 
I am talking to one of my ci-devant frozen up would be 
acquaintances as if I had known him all my life. I have to 
stop talking to laugh at myself, but the favored man is too 
surprised with the sudden burst of sunshine to criticise and the 
rest are consumed with envy. The amenities fairly established, 



NECESSARY RESERVE. 89 

they tell me they would never have dared to address me 
directly those first two or three frosty days. Sometimes the 
efforts to break the icy barriers are amusing. Once in starting 
to go below a gentleman in the companion way remarked 
"good-night" in a voice replete with determination not to be 
ignored. The good-night was shot at me like a bullet, with an 
inexpressibly defiant air. Sometimes three or four gentlemen 
will spring to my assistance while I am struggling with a refrac- 
tory chair or cushion. 

I am not necessarily ill-natured ; it comes natural to me to 
smile and answer if people address me, but I manage still to 
impress my desire to be let alone, and truly I am quite right in 
being reserved. The people who would get acquainted with me 
at once are the people who would bore me the most, and who 
would be most likely to treat me to some familiarity. By biding 
my time I can form some idea of the characters about me and 
make a better choice of acquaintances, gaining usually firm 
friends, instead of getting myself insulted and defamed for my 
amiability. Most of the people I meet are English. To get 
along comfortably and safely with the average Englishman 
you must first impress him with your complete and entire 
respectability and fixed determination not to have any senti- 
mental nonsense. When you have frozen that into him you 
may indulge in sociable friendliness in comparative safety. I 
like to be left to my own thoughts a great deal, and I should 
never have a minute to myself if I did not discipline them as I 
do ; they would bore me to death for they are so many and 
ladies are so few. And so I keep the ice unbroken as long as I 
can with very satisfactory results, and much to their amuse- 
ment and mine, for the situation becomes supremely ridiculous 
to me and we have many a good laugh over it when once the 
ice is broken and we become really good friends. 

I went forward one day and inspected the steerage passengers 
and a very unhappy looking lot they were. They were all 
Chinese and as seasick and miserable as could be. They have 
no berths but are strewn about the forward deck in various 
stages of wretchedness, with their household goods around 
them, quite exposed to the sun but for their umbrellas or mat- 
ting and with an occasional cow or other piece of live stock 
among them. 



90 NO AMERICAN STEAMERS. 

SCENE ON BOARD P. & O. S. S. VERONA. 

English. Lady : " Do they have nice steamers in America ?" 

English Gentleman : "There are no American steamers." 

Two American Ladies (hitherto limp and seasick, sitting up 
very straight, in chorus) : "What?" 

E. G. : Repeats. 

1st A. L. : "Well, I have traveled fifteen thousand miles on 
one American steamer and six thousand on another to my cer- 
tain knowledge. Steamers huilt at Chester, Pennsylvania." 

2d A. L. : " Did you never hear of a man by the name of 
John Roach?" 

E. G. : " No river steamers I mean." 

1st A. L. : " You have been to America. Did you go up the 
Hudson on the C. Vibbard, the St. John or the Drew ? " 

E. G. (meekly) : "I did, they are very handsome." 

2d A. L. : " Have you any handsomer in England ?", 

E. G. ; " We have no rivers in England." 

1st A. L. : " How do they compare with those widely known 
disgraces to civilization that ply between France and England ?" 

E. G. (apologetically) : " Oh, those are very bad." 

1st A. L. : "I suppose you have very handsome steamers. 
This is the first English steamer I ever saw." 

E. G. (unsuspectingly) : " Oh, this is a very good sample." 

1st A. L. (sarcastically) : " Then all I have to say is that it is 
by long odds the very worst, most villainously arranged, badly 
cuisined, inefficiently managed, comfortless old hulk it was ever 
my misfortune to travel on." (Trampling on a fallen foe.) 
"Where is your comfortable smoking room, with card tables ? 
Where is your elegantly fitted upper-deck social hall ? Where 
are your electric lights ? " 

No answer. 

1st A. L. (cruelly) : " Look at your miserable dining saloon, 
a long dark alley immediately over the screw, the only place for 
the passengers in wet weather, without an opening to look out 
of. Look at that miserable little glass coop with the sign upon 
the wall, ' Passengers are forbidden to stand in the com- 
panion.' Look at that disobliging bar, from which a seasick 
woman cannot get a glass of lemonade until after eleven 
o'clock A. M. Look at that scandalous pretense of a fire drill, in 
which one by one your men come shuffling up in various stages 



AMERICA TRIUMPHS. 9l 

of uncertainty as to what they have come for, and having come 
are whispered to confidentially that they have mistaken the 
order in which they should stand and are dismissed. Compare 
all this with the luxuriousness of our Hudson River or Long 
Island Sound steamers, with their grand saloons ; the ele- 
gance of the Santa Rosa, with her gorgeous silk and plush 
fittings and electric lights ; the comfort of the Alameda, with 
her large airy staterooms in which the comfort of her pas- 
sengers is not sacrificed to the ideas of the shipbuilder as to 
space and arrangement ; with her perfect fire drill, where the 
men are at their various stations pumping water through the 
hose in so many seconds after the alarm is given. Think of all 
these things and blush for your country. This old thing would 
be burnt to the water before your men found their proper 
places. No American steamers, indeed ! " 

E. Gr. hopelessly crushed. 

1st A. L. (sings sarcastically): "For he is an Englishman, 
for he himself hath said it, and it's greatly to his credit, that he 
is an Englishman." Ignominious surrender of the British. 
Belligerent attitude and insufferable egotism of the American 
ladies for the rest of the day. 

The Yokohama Maru was, however, a very nice, comfort- 
able little English steamer, well managed, beautifully decorated 
and comfortably fitted. 



SINGAPORE. 

Hotel D'Europe, Singapore, November lQth, 2 P. M. — It re- 
quires a stretch of the imagination to believe it is in fact Novem- 
ber, for the temperature here is suggestive of ovens. There is a 
beautiful chromo in my room representing a snow and ice scene in 
the country that cools the air visibly ; it refreshes me to look at it. 
My room is a whitewashed box ; the bed is a mosquito-net box, 
with nothing but sheets and pillows and is suggestive of hot 
nights. 

I have just arrived. The first thing we saw was a lot of very 
brown bare boys in primitive canoes half full of water. These 
boys were divers. The passengers throw pieces of money in the 
water and the boys dive after them. They catch them under the 
water and come to the surface with them in their mouths. They 
are exceedingly anxious to dive for you, and keep up an inces- 
sant chatter of "Hab adibe, sir ?" and "Yes, sir," and "All 
right, sir." Two of them dove clear under our steamer, coming 
up on the other side with the money in their mouths. 

I said good bye to the Captain, who was toddling around on 
that gouty limb, and departed ; the Doctor and Chief officer pro- 
curing me a carriage by their united efforts, getting my luggage 
aboard of it, and bidding me good bye. The vehicle is a little 
shuttered box drawn by a most unhappy pony, whose dinner of 
grass is fastened on to one of my trunks at the back, in case he 
falls by the way. A drive of three miles brings me to the hotel. 
We go through country and villages by turns. Sometimes the 
villages are built on piles and every tide sweeps under the 
houses. You see all the shades of brown people, Chinese, 
Malay, Singalese and gracious knows what else, but the scene 
is not as varied or as interesting as in Japan. I haven't observed 
any sociable cobras or boa constrictors in my room yet, but, as 
the Irishman said, " I have great hopes." 

Dear me, what a dreadful thing it is to be a woman and to 
travel alone ! I have thrown the hotel quite into a commotion. 
The unhappy clerk is in a pitiable state. He comes to my room 
and closes a shutter of my window that somebody in an adja- 
cent room might possibly look through by pai'tially dislocating 

92 



A LITTLE LADY. 93 

his neck, and explains apologetically that there is so much 
curiosity and they ask him so many questions. He also inquires 
doubtfully what my business is and I reply by way of reas- 
suring him that I travel for my heath, and write. The table is 
at the time strewn with my manuscript, so the reply is emi- 
nently satisfactory. He thinks that I ought to feel strange and 
frightened at being alone in a hotel, so he escorts me upstairs 
and downstairs to the table and back again, as the unfortunate 
gentleman who had charge of the hotel at Los Alamas, Cal., did 
when I swooped down on that wretched place. What a shock- 
ing sinful thing a woman is, to be whisked away and tucked 
into a back room, out of sight. I ought evidently to blush 
for my womanhood. But I don't. On the contrary, I gloxyin 
it. I have come so far in comfort and safety, and I feel every 
day more confidence in myself and the innate goodness of 
human nature. 

My principal and favorite friend and companion and escort 
here is a little English lady of seven years, who resides in the 
same part of the hotel that I do with her parents and "ayah," 
and whose childish heart I have won by the exhibition of the 
musical box. She is a diminutive specimen of British prudence 
and formality, with a predisposition for caste and scandal, but is 
bright and pretty. She takes me to curio shops and teaches me 
how to dicker and bargain with the natives therein, and I must 
say it sounds curious to hear this infant disparage the article she 
set her heart on, affect indifference to its purchase, and leave the 
store ostentatiously to go to another when her demands are not 
complied with. She speaks Malay and tells me what to say and 
where I ought to go and what is going on that I ought to see, 
and what ladies I should refuse to see if they should call upon 
me. Fancy ! I am going to take her with me to hear the band at 
the Botanical Gardens to-morrow. Her mother seems quite 
willing to have her go about with me, and • she is a valuable 
little guide and my most ardent admirer. 

Mr. and Mrs. Few and I are to go to Java together and back, 
and on as far as Ceylon, perhaps Calcutta. They are very 
pleasant, jolly, enterprising' Americans. 

There are people of many countries here. There appear to be 
Clings and Singalese and Siamese and Japanese and Chinese 
and Malay. I admire the Clings most, they are very black, with 



94 OF MANY COUNTRIES. 

upright bearing and handsome faces and bright black eyes. 
The men of this race wear a striped cloth called a sarong, 
wrapped around them like a skirt, and a jacket. A piece of 
cloth or handkerchief tied around the head completes the toilet. 
They wear the hair hanging down to the shoulders or tied up in 
a sort of tail in the back, changing from one mode to the other 
at all times and places during the day. The Clings are natives 
of Ceylon. They look a very fine race. They are almost as 
black as ebony ; are tall and slender and as straight as it is pos- 
sible to be. They have an especially graceful, dignified, even 
majestic carriage. They are Caucasian in type and have very 
bright and intelligent looking faces. They form a decided con- 
trast to the Siamese, who are broader, more dumpy, fatter as a 
rule. The Clings are invariably slim and straight, and their 
black skins have a perfectly clean dry shine as of polished 
wood. I am admiring them immensely. I believe every nation 
under the sun is represented here but Africa. The Cling women 
wear ornaments in their noses and have, literally, rings on 
their toes. The Cling children are as beautiful as possible. 
There is a clean, delicate cut of face and figure, which, added to 
fine large black eyes and intelligent expressions, makes them 
really beautiful people. I am in love with the race ; they are 
far superior to the Chinese, who are a cunning, insolent and at 
the same time groveling set. The Clings are stately, dignified 
and proud, as their whole bearing testifies. 

November 20th. — It is hot, but not so frightfully hot as I had 
been led to expect. The thermometer varies from 80 to 90 de- 
grees during the day, but the air is always cooler at evening 
and very comfortably cool during the night. I've suffered 
more with heat in New York, and when New York is hot it 
stays so night and day. I am stranded here until the 25th of 
November, as no suitable vessel sails for Java until then. As 
I like the place and climate here very much I don't mind that 
particularly. This is popularly supposed to be the worst hotel 
in the world; the "very worst" is at Batavia, they say. I 
am glad I have no husband or brother, or masculine com- 
panion of any sort, along with me to make it more uncomfort- 
able by grumbling. I am getting along very comfortably my- 
self. In the absence of other palatable food I am laying up un- 
weighed pounds of avoirdupois on rice and curry. I am feeling 



APROPOS DE CAPE. 95 

exceedingly well and energetic, particularly at meal times. 
I take five meals a day now according to the custom of the 
country, and I may say parenthetically that my appetite keeps 
pace with that custom remarkably well. I go down to the hotel 
table d'hote three times a day and fill myself to repletion with 
rice and curry. Twice a day I have bread and tea served in my 
apartment. The water all through the East is unfit to drink, so 
I take tea and coffee and claret in turns. 

Apropos de cafe, the nearer you get to the home of that pleas- 
ing drink the worse the quality of it gets. I am afraid it is the old 
story of skim milk, knotty apples, mean potatoes and seedy 
waste scraps of berries of the country farm house. This is a 
tropical country, supposed to abound in luscious fruits. By 
bringing his whole mind to bear on it, Mr. Few has succeeded 
in finding some pineapples that are good. At the table d'hote 
they provide bananas that a New York grocer would blush to 
give away, so little and flavorless are they. These dwarf speci- 
mens of the banana are called plantains here. The only other 
fruit they offer is a sort of combination of orange, tomato and 
apple, the name of which I do not know, and the taste of which 
is not attractive. The table waiters are ex-jinricksha men, and 
a nice stupid lot they are too. Newcomers waste their tissues 
this hot weather by swearing at them; the regular boarders are 
long past swearing. I listen to Mr. Few raging and think how 
my brothers and cousins and uncles would suffer, and am glad 
none of them are along. Mrs. Few and I sit calmly munching 
our rice, and merely remark "bread "or " curry " or " ice " 
to some boy as he flies by, and possess our souls in patience 
until we get it. There is really no use in swearing at a Chinese 
waiter except for the comfort or relief you yourself may derive 
from a classic flow of language, for the " boy" as he is called 
here, is invariably worse. It is as much as he can do to com- 
prehend a single English word, without going into the intri- 
cacies of the large and select assortment of profanity thrown 
at him. 

They wait on you to death in the East. They begin in the 
morning at half past six by bringing you tea or coffee or bread 
and butter. It is of no use to shut your ears and pretend you 
are asleep. If you have locked your door the Chinaman taps 
insinuatingly at it until you let him in. He does not care 



96 CHINESE SERVANTS. 

whether you are dressed or hot, or whether you want him to 
come in or not; his business is to come in and place the tray 
on the table and gather up all the shoes and slippers he can 
find and depart, and he does so. You may rest a little while 
then, but presently another man comes, with whom it is per- 
fectly useless to expostulate. He doesn't know what you say, 
and cares less perhaps. He wants to empty your wash bowl 
and refill your pitcher. Another comes and insists on having 
one at least of your towels before you are through with them; 
then the first one comes back to take away the tea tray and 
return your shoes; another follows to see if you have got any 
soiled linen for the wash. By this time you have perhaps got 
dressed, so no more boys come. You may then think of some- 
thing you want and may call "boy " out of your door or win- 
dow until you are black in the face, but no boy will appear. 
He has attended to his routine duty in your room and has gone 
to the dining room to be ready to wait at table. 

They say the beauty of a Chinaman as a servant, or, worker 
of any kind, is that he never thinks. This charcteristic has its 
disadvantages at times. The ex-jinricksha men who wait on us 
at the table d'hote are exasperating to the extent of being funny. 
In the first place they understand little or no English, and in 
the second place they are not systematically trained, and lastly 
they are ineffably stupid. Mr. Few has got a great deal of rage 
and I a great deal of fun out of the effort to secure hard boiled 
eggs. The boys go about helter-skelter offering people food. 
As they have no allotted places, they are usually all waiting on 
one or two people at once, while the rest of the people are 
gnashing their teeth between frantic efforts to stop a boy as he 
flies by. When you do get waited on, you are offered the same 
dish by several consecutive boys in turn if you decline the first 
one. We can't tell one boy from the other, there are so many 
attending to us; so when we tell one boy we want hard boiled 
eggs, and he has been absent for ten or fifteen minutes and we 
are offered eggs we take them, find them nearly raw, send them 
away with the demand for hard ones; and presently another 
boy comes and offers us eggs, which we try with the same 
result. After waiting twenty minutes and breaking half a 
dozen eggs each, we succeed in getting some still a long way 
from being hard, but sufficiently cooked to be eatable. We 



CONVENTIONAL MANNERS. 97 

laugh, of course, every time we crack an egg or try to " lasso" 
a boy, and even the prim, staid English people who board here 
regularly are fain to relax a little their solemnity over our 
troubles. 

English people are very subdued and stupid over their din- 
ners, or anywhere, I fancy. They say it is considered bad form 
to show any animation or pleasure in any thing. Even the lit- 
tle seven-year-old girl was averse to going at all early, to hear 
the music. She was quite shocked at the idea of getting there 
before it commenced, and said she never went to the theatre un- 
til it was nearly over. One little English lady who has stared 
me out of countenance ever since I have been here, and has 
been surprised into smiling at our jokes at table, has concluded 
to know me and smiles and speaks to me whenever she can 
catch my attention. English people seem to look with especial 
disfavor on people who want to know them. The more inde- 
pendent one is of them, the more sufficient to yourself you are, 
the better they like you. 

I took the little girl to drive with me one morning, to the 
waterworks, where they have a pretty park. Our coachman 
apparently did not know the way and took us to some other 
place. Miss Kitty exhausted her knowledge of Malay on him 
to no purpose. Finally, after he had made a good many in- 
quiries along the road, a pretty half-caste woman in European 
dress got out of her carriage and came and asked us where we 
wanted to go, and directed the driver. After we got there Miss 
Kitty asked a Malay boy for a drink. He brought two glasses 
of water on a tray, for which politeness I paid him a few cop- 
pers, apparently an immense fee, for he invited us up to see the 
bungalow, threw it open for us to rest where it was cool, picked 
some flowers for Kitty and gave us liberty of the place, all out 
of gratitude ; and that brings me to another notion of mine. 

All through China and Japan one is told constantly by the 
English and Americans that you must speak harshly and 
sharply to the natives, or they will not respect your orders. 
One would say these, people have lived among them and ought 
to know, but I think they are wrong ; I think they say that just 
as the old slaveholders used to assert, that you must whip a 
negro to keep him well behaved. I found the Japanese par- 
ticularly susceptible to mere amiability and very grateful for 



98 KINDNESS PAYS. 

the least kindness, taking pleasure in giving you something, op 
doing something extra for you, after they had been paid. Eveiv 
the Chinese who are surly, usually quite melt under kindness. 
An English gentleman seeing me pay a Chinaman, said he 
never had heard a Chinaman say "Thank you" before. 

They have jinrickshas here too, but a more popular mode of 
travel is by the pony -shutter- wagons called "gharries." I took 
Kitty in one of them up to the Botanical Gardens to hear the 
music, played by a brass band, which started off with the Beg- 
gar Student, much to my delight. European music was very 
refreshing after two months of tom-tom. Kitty, having re- 
covered from the shock of so early an arrival, was very enter- 
taining. 



JAVA. 

Hotel Bellevue, Buitenzorg, Java, Nov. 27th.— I have 
now reached the scene of that interesting book ' ' The Prison of 
Weltevreden," the reading- of which gave me my first desire to 
travel. That desire was planted in my imagination when I was 
seven years old. Now, at twenty-six I have just fulfilled my 
childish ambition. I passed through Weltevreden to-day. It is 
a suburb of Batavia and the railway station is situated there. 

Coming here on the steamship Godavery there was be- 
sides Mr. and Mrs. Few and myself only one native English 
speaking person on board the steamer, and he was disagreeable. 
I was, of course, next the Captain at table. I'm a fixture there 
it would seem. Next me were two very agreeable young men 
Holland Dutch by birth, both highly educated, traveled gentle- 
men, owning property in Java. They speak twelve languages 
and adore music and dancing. One of them, Mr. Van, had been 
told about me by my bankers, and both have laid themselves out 
to be of all the use to Mr. and Mrs. Few and myself possible. 
The voyage down was smooth and pleasant, and although we 
crossed the equator, it was not so hot as to make life unendura- 
ble ; indeed to me it was quite comfortably cool. Being on a 
French steamer, in France as it were, I had to bring all my 
French to the fore both for myself and my temporary traveling 
companions. We reached Batavia anchorage at half past five, 
were taken on board a steam launch, up an artificial channel, 
from a quarter to half a mile long, to Batavia. On each side of 
this channel was shallow water, in which sharks and alligators 
and native men and women disported in equal pleasure and 
comfort and entire confidence in each other. 

Arrived at Batavia, with the aid of Mr. Van we got through 
their strict Custom House without the least trouble, put our- 
selves in the hands of the Des Indes hotel runner and with all 
our luggage were driven rapidly to that hotel. Then to our 
bankers, and then to the train, which brought us to Biutenzorg. 
Mr. Van took me to the depot in his carriage, assisted us to get 
our tickets, attend to our luggage, .fee our porters properly, get 
on the right car and then, with many misgivings about us and 

99 



100 THE DORIAN. 

good wishes for us and the promise to come up the day after to- 
morrow and look after us, bade us good bye as the train moved 
out of the depot. We arrived here in the course of an hour and 
a half, got into a Bellevue Hotel carriage, and after quite a 
drive reached the hotel and cast ourselves on the tender mercies 
of the proprietor. Both at Batavia and here we are disappointed 
in the hotels, they are so much better than we had been led to 
expect. 

English is a scarce language hereabouts. Dutch and Malay 
and Singhalese are the prevailing tongues. These are Dutch 
possessions, Dutch towns, Dutch hotels. You have two courses 
at lunch, the first being rice and curry, of which you take a 
large, plate and put everything else that is offered you upon the 
rice — fish, fowls, meats, sausages — and chop all these edibles to- 
gether and eat them. After that they give you beefsteak and 
fried potatoes, then fruit and coffee. This is the principal meal 
of the day and is called the rice meal. The hotel was clean, 
comfortable and well served. We had the pleasure of tasting 
the "dorian" to-day — a fruit of most delicious flavor, a combi- 
nation of hickory nuts, onions and cream in taste, but with a 
smell compared with which Limburger cheese is attar of roses, 
and which is enough to make Stilton cheese turn green with 
envy. We were importuned at the Des Indes by Malays who 
wanted to sell us sarongs and slippers for fabulous prices at 
the commencement, and, failing that, begged us to take their 
goods at our own price. I hear the sound of a waterfall and 
see lizards crawling on my bedroom wall, and I shiver. 

November 28th. — Here as in Singapore the time to rise is be- 
fore six. Six is the hour for coffee or tea. No one who knows 
me could possibly imagine me getting out. of bed at that hour, 
drinking a cup of the weakest imaginable tea and eating some 
bread and going for a drive before breakfast, but that is what 
I do in this country. I have two rooms here. My bedroom is 
entered from a courtyard and opens into a sitting room that 
opens in turn on a veranda, which overlooks a steep bluff at 
the foot of which is a river that appears, as I sit, to run under 
my room, but which in reality it turns off with a short curve to 
the right. A little way up the river, where it narrows, a bridge 
half concealed by puppiia trees crosses the river, and in the 
water are natives of all sizes, colors and sex, playing, swim- 



"THE GARDEN SPOT OP THE EARTH." 101 

ming and alternately washing their clothes, themselves, and 
their household utensils. Beyond the river rises a mountain, 
whose top is in the clouds. 

Coming through the country last night in the cars, and to-day 
in our drive, we saw what a rich, beautiful country this is. 
"The garden spot of the earth " they call it, but then there are 
so many "garden spots of the earth." Japan rejoices in the 
same nattering reputation, so also do the Sandwich Islands, 
likewise Ceylon ; and you don't have to go more than a mile 
toward the inner consciousness of a Calif ornian to find that he 
cherishes a fond and inexpugnable belief that California is the 
original and only ' ' garden spot of the earth. " 

I find all places interesting — California for its genial, sterling 
men and magnificent scenery ; Hawaii for its dreamy, languor- 
ous quiet and fresh breezes ; Japan for its polite and interesting 
people ; Singapore for its innumerable nationalities, and Java 
for its luxuriant vegetation. We drove this morning through 
a park where tigers come at night and carry off the deer that 
roam about in large numbers. The owner of a plantation here 
says, however, that he has only seen a tiger once, and then it 
is a question which was the most scared, he or the tiger. He 
says he and the ferocious beast went off with simultaneous 
bounds in opposite directions. This gentleman grows indigo 
and india rubber on his plantation for market and coffee and 
tobacco for personal use. Besides banana, cocoanut, pineapple, 
puppiia, dorian and innumerable varieties of palm trees, Java 
grows the banyan tree, whose branches reach down and take 
root in the earth until one tree forms quite a respectable forest 
all by itself. I also saw this morning quantities of lotus flowers 
in bloom. The park is the Governor's grounds and is exceed- 
ingly pretty. 

This is a country of earthquakes. We confidently expect 
several shakings-up before we leave Java six days from now. 
It was here in the Straits of Sunda, which divide Java from 
Sumatra, that the terrible earthquake occurred some years ago 
that killed so many people, sunk some islands and threw some 
others up out of the sea to such an extent that the straits and 
sea about had to be resurveyed. Snakes are plenty here, but 
they don't sleep in the hotel beds as a regular business. The 
lizards are more sociable. You can see them four inches long 



102 MALAY PEOPLE. 

on your walls any time of the day. They eat flies and ants 
and mosquitos. 

November 29th. — Mr. and Mrs. Few and myself went driving 
again this morning in this beautiful tropical country. It is 
more lovely than can he described ; the population is dense, but 
it is not made apparent by ugly rows of houses, as in Japan. 
The native houses, built of plaited bamboo, are scattered about 
amongst the trees, so that you can look over a vast and much 
populated valley and see only a tropical forest with but an 
occasional glimpse of a roof peeping through the cocoanut and 
palm trees. The natives are neither pretty nor ugly, except the 
little children under six years, who are quite pretty. I notice 
a great deal of human affection for their little ones is displayed 
by the natives. I saw a Malay boy of eight or nine years bring 
a pretty little crying sister of three or four years out of the 
house, sitting down on a log and taking her on his lap so she 
could see us Americans without being scared, all with an 
affectionate care that might be copied by many American boys 
with much benefit to them. And some innate sense of delicacy 
seems to have suggested to the uncivilized Malay that it is im- 
polite to point at strangers, for I saw a Malay woman put her 
baby's little pointing arm down every time it was raised, but 
with much more gentleness than I had seen the same thing 
done in America. I find most little brown children are as 
frightened at white people as white babies are at brown folks. 

We got a boy to go up a cocoanut tree and pick us a green 
cocoanut. It was cut open for us on the spot, and we each had 
a drink of the milk from it. The white part had not hardened 
yet so we ate it with a spoon. Men, women and children all 
wear the sarong, which is more like a pillow case with both 
ends open than anything else. The men usually wear it fast- 
ened around the waist ; when they wear trousers the sarong is 
reduced to a broad sash and arranged according to the taste of 
the wearer, sometimes jauntily hanging longer over one leg 
than over the other. The women and little girls wear it most 
frequently fastened just under the arms. The fastening part is 
a mystery ; they simply wrap it tightly around them at the top 
and tuck in the edge and there it stays. They wear it into the 
water while washing, and when they take it off to bathe them- 
selves and put it on again, or if they don a clean one, they do 



JAVA "TIFFIN." 103 

so while they are all wet and standing in the water, taking 
another duck or so to wet it thoroughly. If they have put on 
a clean one they proceed to wash the one just taken off. To 
wash clothes they first find a sharp stone, and then give their 
whole minds to an ambitious effort to drive it through to the 
other side of the earth, using the article of clothing as a club. 
From my balcony I can hear them a long distance off pounding 
the rocks with linen in the river below me. There is much in- 
vention displayed in the mode of arranging brightly colored 
handkerchiefs on the head. Every man wears one, and each 
in a different and most intricate fashion. 

This is the rainy season here ; it rains every afternoon and is 
delightfully cool. It is beautifully bright all the morning, get- 
ting comfortably hot by noon. Buitenzorg is the place where 
Java people come to re-invigorate their health, because it is 
high and cool. I am always satisfied with the weather. My 
balcony looks right up the mountain and into the lava guttered 
side of an extinct crater, about which fog and clouds are drift- 
ing all the afternoon. I must speak of the curious luncheon 
again, or "tiffin," as it is called. You have a soup dish, in 
which you lay a solid foundation of rice ; on that you put 
curry, sausage, pork, chicken, salad of hard boiled eggs and 
lettuce, cucumbers, omelet, pickled beets, fish, beef and a 
dozen kinds of spices, all of which you chop up with fork and 
soup spoon and eat. As I am a vegetarian and most of these 
things are meats, fish and fowl, you can imagine my head 
wagging from one side to the other in frantic negatives as I am 
offered each one of these dishes two and three times over. And 
we have rice and curry only once a day — I shall starve. 

Hotel Homan, Bandong, November 30th. — Our guardian 
angel, commonly known as Mr. "Van, came up to Buitenzorg to 
look after his little flock of "Innocents," who were, indeed, 
very much "Abroad." We received him with gratifying en- 
thusiasm. He went right to work to map out our future course 
to us, took us to the depot, overseeing the purchase of our 
tickets, and finally left us, reluctantly returning to Batavia 
himself, while we came on in the opposite direction to this 
place, where we arrived at three P. M., simply said Hotel 
Homan to a Malay, were stowed in a carriage and driven here. 
We were received by Malay servants and shown rooms at once, 



104 A PLEASANT SURPRISE. • 

without a word being spoken. Tea was brought us soon, and 
then we rested and waited for dinner. We waited a good 
while. At half past seven we began to get anxious ; at five 
minutes of eight we concluded we were not to have any supper 
that night. We saw no one but Malays and tried in vain to find 
the landlord to extort information from him, though we had 
been told he spoke no English. We managed to inquire of one 
of the native servants, who were sitting on the floor in spots, 
motionless as statues, when we were to have dinner, and he 
replied, by fingers, nine o'clock. Presently, when we were on 
the point of going dinnerless to bed, a bell struck, lights were 
lit in the dining room, and the clatter of dishes proclaimed the 
long waited for event of the day had arrived. 

We took our seats at table. A Dutchman and his wife and 
his daughter sat opposite ; next them a couple of Dutchmen ; at 
the head of the table a Dutchwoman, the landlady, and next to 
me an East Indian, who bore a striking resemblance to Othello, 
only he was darker than Othello usually appears. We strug- 
gled along a little ; but, woe is me ! everything seemed to be 
cooked in oil, cocoanut oil at that. Just as I was on the verge 
of distraction, finding that the curry I had put on my rice was 
also oil, a voice said " Can I be of any assistance to you ?" in 
unexceptionable English. It was like a thunderbolt out of a 
clear sky, or rather a flash of hghtning out of a black cloud, 
for it was Othello, next me, who spoke. Tableau. We came 
very near rising in a body and embracing him on the spot. We 
all began to talk at once, and our troubles were over from that 
moment. By the end of dinner I discovered that the hostess 
spoke French, and in the morning it appeared that she spoke a 
little English, though she seemed to have concealed the fact 
from the world hitherto. 

But I have got over into the next day, and am writing this 
on December 1st at Sindunglaya, a sanitarium. Othello, it 
appeared, was coming down to Tjianjoer on the same train that 
we were, this morning, on his way to Batavia. and is going on 
the same steamer as ourselves from here to Ceylon, on his way 
to Europe. We took a little roundabout drive to the depot at 
Bandong, got another excellent lunch of rice and curry at 
Tjianjoer, where we lunched on the way up to Bandong, and, 
with Othello's aid, secured a couple of little native covered 



NATIVE SALUTATION. 105 

carts, each drawn by three horses. Mrs. Few and I got into 
one and Mr. Few and the baggage in the other, and off we go 
for a drive of twelve miles to this place. 

Here we were received by the landlord, who speaks English. 
It appears by a placard on the wall that this is "Gezonheid's 
Establissement, Sindunglaya." It is situated at the foot of an 
active volcano (nice soothing place for invalids). Our drive 
over here was bright and pretty. Bandong is a hundred and 
fifty miles back into the interior of Java. Did any one ever 
suppose they had railroads most all over Java ? It is ridiculous ; 
it is absurd. I am beginning to doubt if there is such a thing 
to be seen in the world now as a savage, uncivilized, land. We 
travel, as everybody else does in Java, second class by train, 
because it is better than first class. There is a great deal of 
energy and art and ingenuity expended here on whistling and 
snapping whips ; the engine whistles about half the time, and 
Of all shrill, unearthly, earsplitting whistles commend me to 
these. They whistle one long steady shriek until everybody is 
on the verge of insanity, then drop into a key lower for a little 
while, and when you are tired of that stop with a defiant snort 
upward to the original note. 

The drivers of carriages snap their whips in a like irritating 
manner. These little Javanese ponies are very fractious and 
the drivers are very inefficient. When their horses balk or cut 
capers or show a disposition to go in the direction opposite to 
the one desired the drivers get down and lead them or turn 
them right. Consequently, your advancement depends largely 
on the whims of your horses. 

The native salutation here to acquaintances or to strangers is 
to squat down on the ground. It is funny, as we drive by, to 
see people squatting at the roadside. The men and women in 
Java are always pretty well clothed, but the children still run 
about in brown nakedness. Sometimes one sees a little nude 
seven-year-old reclining against a door post in an attitude of 
unconscious grace. I saw one pretty little girl wearing a gauze 
veil on her head, "only this and nothing more." Some wear 
bracelets simply, by way of wearing apparel, around either 
their wrists or ankles. Rings about the toes are considered 
distingue for children and adults both here and in Singapore. 
I have seen several very pretty little girls whose only garment, 



106 "CLOTHED in sunshine." 

if I may call it so, was a necklace. Too much, cannot be said 
in reference to the humane, affectionate treatment of the little 
children among these xmcivilized people. The most natural 
thing for a Christian child to do when a smaller one cries after 
it from fright at strangers is to shake the little nuisance. I 
have never seen here or in Japan the slightest exhibition of 
annoyance or impatience towards the little children. The 
older child always drops its play or curiosity to soothe the fears 
of the smaller one. I see so many pretty little maidens of four 
years or so, sometimes clothed, as Mark Twain says, in ' ' sun- 
shine," at other times wearing a little sarong and sometimes a 
jacket. I would like to buy one of these pretty little tots and 
bring it home with me. The women are good looking while 
young, but only that. 

Hotel Belle vue, Buitenzorg, December 2d. — We had sup- 
per, or dinner, or whatever they call the meal, last night at Sin- 
dunglaya, at 8 P. M. , and then to bed. We were up this morning 
at six and off soon after seven, in our little native carts, drawn 
each by three ponies, harnessed side by side. We travelled up- 
ward about fifteen hundred feet and then through a mountain 
pass between four thousand and five thousand feet above the 
level of the sea, which sea, by the way, could be seen from the 
piazza of the hotel we had just left. Then we came down at a 
rattling gait to Buitenzorg, having made thirty miles in three 
and a half hours, and getting here before lunch. The roads 
were very good all the way. In passing through a forest we 
saw a flock of flying foxes, immense bats, hanging from the 
topmost branches of trees. They looked in the distance like so 
many bunches of overripe bananas, as they hung by the feet, 
head downward on the limbs. 

On board S. S. Godavery, December 5th, bound for Singa- 
pore. — Mr. Van came to Buitenzorg, according to promise, at 
five. He was the guest of the Governor there. He met us the 
next morning at the depot with two immense bouquets of roses 
from the Governor's gardens, for Mrs. Few and myself, and we 
parted with mutual regret and admiration. 

At Batavia we went to the museum and saw a collection of 
Japanese and Sumatra-ese work, clothing, houses, imple- 
ments, etc. ; then to the Botanical Gardens, where we saw a 
pair of orang-outangs that perfectly fascinated me with their 



BATAVIA. 107 

hideousness and' mixture of intelligence and animalism. From 
the museum we went to a photograph gallery, where we pur- 
chased some very unsatisfactory photographs of natives. Then 
to supper and to bed, to rise at five in the morning, drive down 
to the steam launch which was to bring us off to the Godavery, 
growling all the way along about the outrageousness of being 
called up at five in the morning and hustled off without any time 
for breakfast, to catch a steamer that was not to sail until nine, 
and at a distance that an hour's time would more than cover. 
We criticised and commented upon the annoyance with a great 
deal of warmth and freedom, and asked all the officers and em- 
ployes to elucidate the why, but did not succeed in getting any 
satisfactory explanation. 

Once more aboard ship, we find ourselves amongst the suave 
Frenchmen again. The captain welcomes us back. Our Othello 
is there and glad to see us. He turns out to be the richest 
planter in Java. Another passenger is a young Dutchman 
taking his little half-caste girl home to Europe to his sister, the 
little one's native mother being dead ; and another, a young 
Dutch captain going home to bring out a new steamer. It is 
Very funny to note the excitability of the French people. The 
movements of the officers and the crew on this ship seem to be 
so undisciplined and ineffective. There is more excitement 
over the pulling of a rope, more chattering and gesticulation 
attendant on some trivial occurrence than you would see on an 
English ship if a man fell overboard. Several times we have 
been betrayed by the general excitement and chatter and ges- 
ticulation into rising from our comfortable seats and rushing to 
the side of the vessel expecting to see nothing less than a shark 
eating a sailor, or a waterspout coming for us, only to find the 
most trivial occasion for the disturbance. A rope needed pull- 
ing in an inch tighter, perhaps, or some one saw a twig in the 
water. I cultivate the little half-caste girl as well as I can with 
only one Malay word at my command. It is delightfully cool 
and pleasant on deck. I have to keep up a running conversa- 
tion in French and English at one and the same time. I 
have promised to come back to Java with the Dutch captain 
on his new steamer if he will go around the Cape of Good 
Hope. The rounding of the Cape of Good Hope is my latest 
ambition. 



108 THEMSELVES TO BLAME. 

And now for a few notes on traveling- alone. I have made 
this trip with Mr. and Mrs. Few, and therefore, taking advan- 
tage of my sex in a measure, shifted the burthen of baggage and 
tickets \ipon Mr. Few's shoulders, but I don't see that I got 
along the least bit better for being taken charge of ; indeed, I 
am guilty of a private opinion that I could manage better by 
myself. I did the talking usually, understood our route, names 
of places, hotels, ways of travel, better than he did, and at all 
times require less assistance, explanation and coaching than he 
does. They were excited and anxious because they could not 
get an English speaking servant to go with us. I was perfectly 
satisfied that we should get along all right without, as we did. 
I am sometimes taken by strangers to be Mrs. Few's daughter. 

Mrs. Few tells me blood curdling stories of insult to young 
ladies traveling in Japan, with their husbands and a party of 
friends to protect them, from jinricksha coolies. I don't under- 
stand it. I went alone into the interior of Japan and nothing 
happened to me that could be distorted by the most active 
imagination into disrespect. I have a theory as to the reason 
in part. It is this : Many women, even of the most thoroughly 
respectable, moral and religious kind, are given to a but half 
concealed vulgarity. Traveling with each other and their 
husbands, they exhibit this in whispered innuendoes, in sug- 
gestive glances and meaningful giggles. The nudeness and 
natural habits of the people of these countries afford abundant 
opportunity for this vulgar amusement. The Japanese under- 
stand this readily enough and also the fear they excite, and lay 
themselves out to at once amuse and frighten them. Even Mrs. 
Few, highly moral Quakeress though she is, jogs me with her 
elbow and grimaces when we come across some glaring im- 
propriety and comments upon it in an undertone. I go along 
as if I were as much accustomed to seeing people in a state of 
nature as they are accustomed to being so, and seemingly un- 
conscious of anything improper in appearance or action. I am 
not afraid to trust myself in the hands of the natives and they 
don't try to frighten me. 

Hotel De L'Europe, Singapore, December 9th. — We had to 
bid only the captain of the Godavery good bye ; we passengers 
will still be fellow travelers as far as Ceylon. I am welcomed 
back to the hotel by the English ladies residing here. Slow, 



COURTESY AND CASTE. 109 

austere, cliquey as they are, having" duly considered me, they 
have concluded to like me and cultivate me. They smile at me 
graciously at table, offer me books to read on the veranda, 
and invite me in to tea with their families ; all with many 
exclamations of wonder at my daring in traveling alone. They 
observe that I act very quietly and independently, but they con- 
clude that I am a desirable acquaintance, and make up to me 
accordingly. 

Caste rages here, however, to such an extent that a merchant 
captain's wife, being the only lady of that standard, has no one to 
speak to* The Naval Captain's wife is almost as badly off, but 
will not descend to companionship with the first lady. The idea 
of class distinctions between the three of four people who ' ' pig," 
I may say, in this fifteenth rate hotel is simply absurd anyway. 
I sail to-day for Colombo at four P. M. on the M. M. Irouaddy. 



CEYLON. 

Messagerie Maritimes S. S. Irouaddy, Indian Ocean, 
December 12th. — The usual success attended my advent on board 
this ship. I commenced my acquaintance with the officers by a 
piece of unheard of audacity, i. e., refused the seat of honor, 
between the Captain and a French Admiral — newly created such 
for gallant conduct in the Chinese war — and went by preference 
to the very foot of the table where my friends had been assigned 
seats. The place had been made especially for me over all the 
previous passengers because I was a lady and alone. I 
now sit opposite the Purser, who presents me with a camelia 
every morning at breakfast. As these keep nicely I simply pin 
another one on to my left shoulder, so my corsage boquet in- 
creases in size daily. Yesterday I was asked to join in the pool 
on the boats progress ; I did so, and won ten rupees thereby. 
Of course I must give the others a chance of winning a rupee 
back, so I played again to-day and won again. They say that 
when we reach Colombo I will be covered with camelias and 
loaded with rupees. The Purser tells me that the agent told 
him to take particular care of me. He extended special privi- 
leges to me in the way of through passage to Calcutta, or not, 
at my convenience, after reaching Colombo. These last few 
days I have been sailing along just under,, or over, New York 
State, on the opposite side of the globe. 

December 14£h. — Off the Coast of Ceylon. — "We expect to 
reach Colombo to-night. To-day an inspection of the ship and 
entire service was held. The Captain came out resplendent 
in epaulettes and medals. 

I have been in a bad temper for three days. These annals 
would not be perfect without a chapter of growls, so I will write 
one. I have had a cold with my usual irritated state of lungs, 
and "the politest nation in the world" permits smoking in 
every part of the ship. I have observed several mythical legends 
in various places relating to "limit de fumeurs," but they are 
apparently intended only for ornament, for everybody smokes 
everywhere, while I sit and cough or wander about in search of 
a pure atmosphere, and snub fei'ociously every creature who 
110 



•SOME DISCOMFORTS. Ill 

dares approach me with a cigar in hand or mouth. Even the 
Americans, I am ashamed to say, have laid aside the respect and 
consideration the American gentleman usually shows a lady 
and add their volume of smoke to the general cloud. I suspect 
that if I could produce a strict enforcement of the smoking 
rules it would turn all the present friendliness toward me to 
bitterest hatred. I hate a man who smokes when it makes him 
beastly selfish. So much for growling. 

Queens Hotel, Kandy, Ceylon, December 15th. — Our last 
two days at sea were stormy. Having been promised lovely 
weather, the passengers protested. The Captain explained that 
they were not responsible for irregular monsoons ; this was a 
southeast one, I think, when, according to time honored custom, 
it should have been northwest. Anyway it was tolerably 
rough, and it rained torrents, and all the ports were closed, and 
this is a hot climate, and these steamers have no upper saloon. 
I leave the rest to your imaginations. 

Yesterday we expected to reach Colombo at 9 P. M. We, a 
number of us passengers, all "globe trotters" and bound in the 
same direction, had just concluded to remain on board all night, 
when it was announced that all the ports would be closed dur- 
ing the night while taking in coal ; that settled it ; we would go 
ashore at any cost. So we sat up and waited to get in. Accus- 
tomed to rise very early, we were all tired, and we watched our 
approach to land and fell asleep by turns. It seemed as if we 
were bent on passing Colombo instead of stopping there, for we 
sailed straight on long after we saw the harbor lights. Finally 
we stopped and waited for the pilot. We had been signaled 
and telegraphed at Point de G-alle in the morning, but the pilot 
had evidently got tired and gone to bed, for no pilot appeared 
for some time. While we waited and watched the shore anx- 
iously we nodded in our chairs by turns, anathematising the 
pilot between nods. 

At last he came and took us in behind the big red light we 
had been sailing around all night ; then we engaged one of the 
few boatmen who came out, got ashore, walked up the narrow 
pier between lines of sleeping Singhalese lying on the floor on 
either side, piled the baggage with Mrs. Few and myself on a 
carriage, and drove up the streets after midnight, through a 
strange sleeping city, to the hotel. 



112 KANDY. 

I have been told I must see Kandy, and with that purpose I left, 
Mr. and Mrs. Few to-day somewhat unceremoniously and started 
out by myself with a fresh burst of enthusiasm at traveling alone 
again. The Fews are good people enough, but good people have 
so many detestable faults. They are so exceedingly good and 
moral and affectionate and tender in their own family circle, and 
so irritatingly selfish, unjust, and wanting in natural human 
sympathy toward humanity at large. I get along much better 
and much happier alone. Good, Christian Mrs. Few's worldliness 
and want of feeling for her own sex distresses me always, and Mr. 
Few's efforts to help me were only a bother. I am more practi- 
cal, more accurate, more independent than he, at least I think so. 

To come up here takes four hours ; it is seven miles from 
Colombo. I have the whole of the ladies' first-class car to my- 
self. This place is high up in the mountains ; some of these 
mountains the train went around and some it went through, and 
some of them it " clum." I could feel the wheels digging their 
metaphorical finger nails and toe nails into the rails to keep 
from sliding back. I never went up such steep grades in cars 
before. The scenery was beautiful as we wound around the 
mountains and looked down into the valleys far below. The 
irrigated, terraced farms reach way up on the mountains like 
so many irregular steps. 

Ceylon is the native place of the people whose stately bearing 
and light, free, graceful walk I admired so much in Singapore 
— the tall, slim, Clings or Singhalese. Coming through the 
country by train is a good way to see the people. I saw a boy 
of fifteen whose face and figure were the perfection of beauty 
and grace. Instead of little brown and yellow naked children, 
I now see little ones of ebony, sometimes with silver bracelets, 
sometimes with a silver girdle like a piece of telegraph wire 
around the hips ; I wish I could get some pictures of the child- 
ren I see. The faces here are very pretty. There is a large 
field all through this country for the artist and caricaturist. 
The Singhalese shave the fore part of the head and let the rest 
of their hair hang in a long tuft or tie it up something as we do 
horses tails. White is much worn in an artistic drapery, 
though the whiteness is sometimes open to criticism. The men 
here wear round combs in their hair, just like little American 
girls, made of tortoise shell. 



VOLUNTEER GUIDES. 113 

Ceylon is one vast grove of cocoanut trees. They have very 
tall ones and a short kind, and they are all over and every- 
where. Here grows the breadfruit tree and cinnamon tree, 
besides all the other tropical fruit trees. 

A Singhalese boy about the hotel took our party in charge 
and finally took me exclusively under his wing to my entire 
satisfaction and his. They don't ask you if you want a boy, or 
at least not until amenities are fairly established ; they simply 
join you, show you where you want to go, tell you how much 
to pay, drive away beggars and dissatisfied servitors, and make 
themselves so indispensable to your comfort and happiness that 
you are fain to beg them to go along with you as a special 
favor. My boy saw to the transfer of my baggage, after having 
taken me about town to and from depots, and finally brought 
me aboard sbip. I don't know how I got him ; the first that I 
remember he was sitting on the back seat of my carriage point- 
ing out objects of interest ; I thought he belonged to the 
carriage. 



INDIA. 

On Board the M. M. S. S. Tibre, Bound for Calcutta, 
December 22d. — This is the most sociable set of passengers I 
have encountered yet, also the most musical. Half of them are 
French and half English. We are very jolly at table and 
amuse ourselves the rest of the days and evenings with chess, 
music, and sleight of hand performances. I have protested vio- 
lently against having my cabin port closed, so now I am per- 
mitted to sleep comfortably in as many inches of water as I see fit. 

When we arrived off Pondichery the offing' was in possession 
of a cyclone, and we modestly and obligingly waited for it to 
take its departure before attempting to come up to anchor. We 
had not long to wait. After we anchored some boat loads of 
very wet and very nude Indians came out to us and aboard our 
ship, and then the excitement and chatter ran very high. They 
fought over the few wretched passengers who wished to embark 
here. Eventually those unhappy beings were swung out in a 
chair " a la derrick," and dumped unceremoniously and damply 
into the boat, receiving as they passed under the awning, an ac- 
cumulated shower down the backs of their necks. The princi- 
pal passengers leaving here are an abbe and half a dozen padres 
and three unfortunate nuns of the Sacred Heart. It is alleged 
to be owing to the presence on board of these pious personages 
that we are having such bad weather. 

It was curious to see any number of black men spring over 
the rail on board our ship, entirely nude with the exception of 
the most primitive string around the loin, and proceed to array 
themselves in a skirt which they seemed to evolve from their 
inner consciousnesses. It afterward appeared they had con- 
verted their turbans into sarongs. Thus in a few minutes we 
found ourselves surrounded by a crowd of very well clothed 
Indian gentlemen. Meanwhile a sailor created a temporary 
diversion by falling into the sea and getting fished out between 
the boats. 

I deferred going ashore until the next day which proved fine. 
At breakfast I had the agent of the M. M. next me on one side, 
and Vicompte De Something or other, who had been educated 

114 



A PUSH-PUSH. 115 

at West Point, America, and knew Stonewall Jackson and 
General Lee well and adores America, on the other. The Vi- 
compte placed his horses and carriages at my disposal for the 
day, but I had already several invitations to see the town, and 
had managed adroitly to combine the authors of them into one 
party. 

We were let down into the bobbing boat by means of the chair 
derrick, I going first to give the other ladies confidence. Hav- 
ing tumbled into our respective places, we started for the shore, 
the natives leading off with an American hurrah which deteri- 
orated by degrees into an Indian singsong sort of chorus. Our 
boat being swept ashore by the surf, natives came out to the 
boat with a chair on their shoulders, into which we sat in turn 
and were carried to the beach, where, being all safely landed, 
we secured a push-push for each two people and started gaily 
off to see the town. A push-push is, as its name suggests, 
pushed from behind by two or three natives, the occupants of 
the vehicle guiding the carriage by means of a handle like a 
rudder: The straightness of your course is therefore determined 
by the steadiness of the hand of your escort or yourself. My 
escort was new to the push-push, so we ricochetted along the 
street, making a carom on every other unfortunate vehicle that 
came in our way, until I took matters in my own hands and 
did the guiding myself, while my escort objurgated the pushers. 
Between our zigzag course and their inefficiency we were rapidly 
being left far in the rear. 

Reaching the Bazaar, or market place, we alighted and 
walked through it ; and here was the prettiest thing I saw in 
Pondichery, a tiny Indian maiden with a tangle of black curly 
hair falling over two black eyes and a pretty, shy, dark face, 
sitting on the ground — a little bronze statuette she was — with a 
bowl of bright yellow flowers before her. We saw here num- 
bers of dealers of all kinds, asking unheard of prices for their 
wares. We went then to the prison, like other prisons an un- 
happy place. In the yard we encountered another little Indian 
girl covered with rings and bracelets and anklets and lying on 
the ground. I ought to have brought a photographic instru- 
ment with me so that I could take some of the pretty pictures I 
see. At a fountain we saw women and girls getting jars of 
water, which they proceeded to carry off on their heads. The 



116 FIGHTING BOATMAN. 

women seem to be a good deal dressed in this part of the 
country. They wear a great deal of drapery, and jewelry. The 
ears are pierced all around the rims and covered with rings and 
bars of gold and silver ; they also wear a little tightfitting 
jacket that reaches just below the bust and has short sleeves, 
and fits them like the skin itself. 

Having viewed Pondichery to our entire satisfaction, seeing 
two churches and the best hotel, we returned to the boat ; this 
time walking down a long wharf and descending a very rickety 
stair and jumping into the tossing boat. There was another 
boat between ours and the stairway, and the natives in it de- 
clined to get out of the way ; we got into it expecting to step 
from it into our own ; but the natives manning the first boat 
had other views. Two of the officers succeeded in getting 
across, but just as I was about to cross, a free fight took place 
over me between the twenty-five or thirty natives manning the 
two boats, during which I must confess I felt very much in the 
way. 

The difficulty was settled by our resigning ourselves to going 
to the Tibre in the stranger boat we were in. The rest having 
tumbled, with more or less personal injuries, into the boat we 
proceeded on our way. Arrived at the Tibre we found she 
had turned with the tide, and the chair derrick was on the rough 
seaward side of the boat. A gentleman or so went up the rope 
ladder ; the rest of us in deference to the terrors of a timid 
English lady, were rowed around to the other side with much 
difficulty and danger and hoisted on deck, the last and heaviest 
of the passengers breaking the rope and falling a few inches to 
the deck, hurting his feelings seriously. He expatiated on the 
accident for the rest of the day, to my infinite disgust. 

There had been a severe storm at Pondichery destroying tele- 
graph lilies and railway to Madras, therefore our unfortunate 
abbe, priests and sisters were obliged to come back to us to go to 
Madras. We reached Madras early the next morning, but 
alas ! it was Sunday. I learned that my banker's office was 
closed and that the banker resided too far out of town to be 
reached before the steamer sailed again. I sent a note asking 
him to forward my mail to Bombay, and continued on my way 
rather the reverse of rejoicing. I was told there was little 
worth stopping at Madras to see and I did not attempt to go 



CALCUTTA. 117 

ashore. I watched the others getting off at the imminent risk of 
life and limb, boats bobbing up and down and natives fighting 
over every passenger, and concluded to stay on board. Jug- 
glers come and amuse us, and merchants who ask fabulous 
prices and accepting infinitesimal ones for their goods. One 
juggler performs impossible tricks, frightens us with scorpions 
and cobras, and disgusts and mystifies us with the production 
of any quantity of stones and big iron nails from the inmost 
recesses of his being. He seems, in fact, to have a hardware 
shop concealed in his stomach. 

Great Eastern Hotel, Calcutta, December 25th. — We 
spent Christmas eve on board the Tibre, having our usual jolly 
concert. We were by this time very jolly good friends, and 
managed to get a great deal of amusement out of our musical 
shortcomings and struggles to make ourselves understood, for 
one-half of the party spoke from little to no English and the 
other half was situated the same regarding French. Even the 
most ignorant of us though had mastered such simple and use- 
ful phrases as "Que est ce que sait " and " Je ne sais pas " and 
rung the changes on them. Indeed, it is astonishing how much 
information can be asked and given through half a dozen well- 
worn words. Anyway we left the Tibre feeling very highly 
accomplished linguistically. 

Last night we reached and entered the river Hoogly, a con- 
tinuation of the " sacred Granges." We were obliged to anchor 
for the night, however, some eighteen miles below Calcutta, 
the channel being very dangerous and difficult of navigation 
even by daylight. We anchored between a few quicksands, 
and the officers cheered us by pointing out uncomfortably near 
spots where ships had been caught and had disappeared in ten 
minutes, never to be seen again. I asked if the officers were 
going ashore, but the Commissaire said " No, it is very danger- 
ous." I said, "Why ? Are there tigers here ? " and he replied 
"No, something more terrible." I ask "What?" and he an- 
swers "Widows." It seems the "suttee "has been interfered 
with and the widows instead of being burnt are now sent to a 
lonely spot down the river into seclusion, and we had anchored 
opposite that spot. Be it understood I am looking for a place 
where tigers will come and sit under my window and serenade 
me. 



118 AN INDIAN SERVANT. 

I don't get that sympathy with my tastes that T plainly .should. 
When I tell people that I am tired of Botanical Gardens and 
that I have registered a solemn vow never to go to another 
museum, they look at me incredulously and say, "Oh, hut 
these are very fine ones. You must really go and see these." 
My remark that I am on my way home from San Francisco to 
New York is looked upon as a huge joke. I suspect that I am 
leaving the reputation of a practical humorist behind me. 

Having hidden good bye to the French Captain and Com- 
missaire, I was taken in hand by the river pilot, an English 
gentleman who is so valuable a man that he is carried all the way 
to Ceylon and back for the sake of retaining his services com- 
ing up the Hoogly, who is a sort of king in his way, and who 
fetched me up to the hotel and consigned me to the tender 
mercies of the manager. 

And here my woes begin. The moment I've put foot into 
my room a servant presents himself for engagement. I say 
I am only going to stay a day and don't want a servant ; he 
goes off and brings the manager, who tells me I had better take 
this servant if I am going to remain or go up country. I tell 
him I am only going to stay a day or two, am not sure where I 
am going first, and propose to communicate with friends here 
before taking a servant or anything else. The manager then 
engages the man for me at the hotel expense, until I know 
what I am going to do. My servant then proceeds to "putter" 
about until I am on the verge of insanity. When he does 
leave the room it is only as far as the outside of the curtained 
doorway, from which retreat he rushes in if. I rustle a paper or 
walk across the floor, until I am fain to offer him double wages 
to go away and leave me alone. I have been told before that I 
must have a servant, and I asked : 

"What will my servant do ? Will he find out depots for me 
and what time my train is to go ? " 

"No," is the reply ; " he doesn't know anything about trains, 
and if you take him with you he won't be allowed to be of any 
use to you in the next place you stop at." 

" Will he engage carriages for me, carry messages ? Can he 
take me to the theatre ? Will he look after my baggage ? " 

"No." 

"What will he do?" 



HOW TO LOCK A TRUNK. 119 

" Oh, he will pack your trunks for you." 

' ' Never ; " I rejoin. ' ' The servant isn't born who could pack 
my trunks with the science they require. The only man who 
ever shut my trunk was a hotel clerk with a head for mathe- 
matical calculation, and he performed the feat under my per- 
sonal directions. I said, shut the lid as far as it will go. He 
did so. Now give the tray a slight kick at this end — so. Now 
do the same at the other end — so. Now close the lid completely 
— so. Sit on this corner a minute and shut the clasp ; now sit 
on the other end and do the same. That's it. Now sit immediately 
over the lock — so. Push in the hasp, lift yourself and give the 
lid just a little jolt till the hasp catches, and then turn the key. 
There ! And it was done to the infinite and open admiration 
and amusement of an interested audience of custom officers and 
natives. But excuse the diversion. "What else will my servant 
do— if I let him ? " 

" Well, he will bring you your tea in the morning." 

' ' Goodness gracious, not if I can prevent it. I've lost all my 
chances of heaven now, thinking "cuss" words when the 
stewardess calls me up at half -past six to know if I want tea. 
I don't see the use of a servant who won't or can't do anything 
you want him to do and will do what you don't want him to 
do." 

Answer : "Oh, but you must have a servant in India." 

However, this servant promises to take care of my luggage 
and take me to see all the sights, if I will take him up country 
with me. He has been to Darjeeling and Bombay before. 
Perhaps I'd better take him. Meantime my reason " totters on 
its throne " under the enforced waiting on. 

I was told- it was cold in Calcutta. Indian ideas of tempera- 
ture and mine differ materially. Fancy a man walking the 
street in Summer attire wiping the prespiration from his brow 
on Christmas Day ! And as for the sacred waters, of all the 
dirty, abominable rivers, the Hoogly is the most horrible. The 
yellow Yangtsekiang is purity itself in comparison. It makes 
one ill to look at the waters of the Hoogly, and it does not need 
the sight of a corpse floating down its turbid bosom to com- 
plete one's disgust. I have my own private and unflattering 
opinion of the English people whose residences are in the course 
of construction along its banks. 



120 "MERRY CHRISTMAS." 

lam in a chronic state of "big, big D — " to-day. Why? 
Because this is Christmas, "Merry Christmas," and the bank 
is closed ; I can't get my letters to-day nor to-morrow, perhaps 
not until Monday, and this is Thursday. Oh, why, oh, why, 
did I have my letters sent to a bank ? I think this growling is 
a very good thing for a change. My notes were getting monot- 
onously amiable and self congratulatory. I'm in a bad humor. 
I hate India, and abhor Calcutta, and abominate this great 
marble-floored hotel, with its yard-long bill of fare of poor 
meats and its army of restless servants. 

December $7th.—I am in the deepest, darkest depths of dis- 
mal despair ; because I am going to a fete, or ball to-night, 
where I shall meet some friends and have a most delightful 
time. Such a good time as I am going to have dancing ! And 
oh ! it is such hard work — having a good time — the hardest 
work I know. The prospect of the fun I'm to have fairly ap- 
pals me ; besides, there is a bit of a lark in it. Indeed, my 
whole journey is a sort of lark of the perpetual order. 

Yesterday I started off in search of my letters. The bank 
was closed, not to be opened until Monday ; meanwhile I want 
some money to travel around with. I get the address of the 
president, drive five or six miles into the country and present 
myself, my letter of credit and my woes, to the president in the 
bosom of his family. I ana received most courteously. The 
president himself drives to the bank for money from his safe, 
and brings it to me in person, at the same time giving me ad- 
vice about my trip to Darjeeling and begging to be called upon 
or telegraphed to, in any emergency or for any service. He is 
the gravest, most courteous of gentlemen. Unfortunately, a 
wretched cashier has locked up my letters and gone to some in- 
accessible place with the key in his pocket, so no letters for me 
until my return from Darjeeling. I tell a friend or so that I 
have been to see my banker, and they say no English lady 
would dare do such a thing ; she would be afraid of getting 
snubbed, so I suppose it was an outrageous thing to do. 

I have seen Cook's agent here and am going to get my tickets 
from him through India. He sends word to the hotel people to 
look out for me. I think I shall take a native servant with me 
to Darjeeling, and then I can judge whether I shall be able to 
cross India without him. They tell me I shall be swindled 



DARJEELING. 121 

either way, that everybody is, and that I may as well be re- 
signed to it. The man I've got here was very anxious to go 
with me ; when I told him finally that 1 would take him you 
should have seen the smile that lit his expressive features. He 
was thinking how much he should make out of me. He began 
laying his plans this morning ; he said he would not go if he 
were to be paid by Cook's agent — I must pay him myself. I 
said, "All right; I don't want you. Cook's agent will get me 
a better man." I had expected to pay him myself, but his stipu- 
lation suggested that he did not think I would know enough to 
inquire into the correctness of his accounts. I shall not pay 
anything for myself if I can help it. 

I went to the opera last night and saw Miss Emilie Melville 
play "Girofle-Girofla." It was a "swell" night; the Viceroy 
was there, so we all had to rise when he came in, while the or- 
chestra played "God save the Queen." I find myself in a nest 
of friends in Calcutta. Mr. Cool, whom I went about with in 
Hong Kong, is waiting for me to come back from Darjeeling 
to take me to see some sights. To-night I shall meet all the 
French officers of the Tibre at the ball, which is given by the 
French Consul. Mr. King, who was a fellow passenger on the 
Tibre, took me to the opera last night. Mr. and Mrs. Few and 
another batch of fellow travelers will arrive to-day and be here 
when I return, and everybody offers some form of amusement. 
It's a clear case of "ambarras de riches." I am dreading the 
long trip across India awfully. I shall have no end of good 
time though. 

Woodland Hotel, Darjeeling, Bengal, in the Himalaya 
Mountains, December 20th. — Hurrah! American independ- 
ence once more rampant and victorious ! Now I just adore 
myself. Now I am happy. Custom, prediction, advice to the 
contrary. Here I am, at Darjeeling, and here I have come 
alone, to climb the Himalayas absolutely alone, not a vestige 
of a boy or guardian of any description, twenty-five hours 
journey, and several changes from cars to steamers and vice 
versa. 

This is the biggest feather in my cap yet, for I understand it 
has never been done before. One lady came here once alone 
with a boy to wait on her and go about with her. But from 
what I can find out I am the first woman to make this trip en- 



122 IN THE HIMALAYAS. 

tirelv alone. And this is how I managed. My servant in Cal- 
cutta did not suit me, so I threw him over. Cook's agent could 
not supply me with one that they could specially recommend 
at such short notice. The agent, Mr. Higgins, observing my 
spirit and experience, thought I could manage alone, and I de- 
termined to do so. His native conductor took me to the train 
and told the English conductor I was alone ; the conductor 
transferred me to the steamer on the Ganges River. I got a 
waiter on the steamer to carry my shawl-strapped rug, etc., to the 
train. Changing cars, a dozen boys are at the door of the car be- 
fore it is unlocked, ready to grab your baggage. It is only neces- 
sary to let one take it and follow him, and having received it in 
your next car pay him two ' ' annas " (about five cents). The cars 
are very comfortable. Ladies and gentlemen have separate 
compartments. Being the only first-class lady passenger, I had 
a compartment for four all to myself. And the officials don't 
disturb one or call one up for tickets or to change cars during 
the night. 

I had a very nice supper on the steamer crossing the Ganges 
last night, a good breakfast when I changed cars this morning, 
and a correspondingly good lunch at the half-way house up 
the mountains. After I had made all my changes, a fellow 
passenger of the Tibre got on the open car that I was travel- 
ing in, which ascends the mountains. He got off the station 
before me, so he could not rob me of one particle of my 
glory of traveling alone, but he gave me an opportunity 
in the way of chatter, an opportunity which I embraced. 

This was the last stage of my journey, the dangerous part 
as well, for we climb up and around and through moun- 
tains in a ramshakly sort of train, most of the time in a succes- 
sion of great scallops along the edge of the precipice of hundreds 
of feet, the banks of which are frequently giving way. The 
road is often blocked with landslides. We passed many places 
where the road has broken away close to the rails. The moun- 
tains seem to be composed of a very loose sandy quality of 
earth. The railroad is very intricate ; it crosses and recrosses 
itself. You go under an arch, and the next thing you know 
you go over that self -same arch. Looking back at it, the road 
lies below you like a piece of tangled string. Sometimes the 
train goes backwards and forwards on a zigzag, like a shuttle, 



GRAND SCENERY. 123 

going forward up one slant and backing up the next, until the 
desired height is reached. 

Winding around and up these mountains, the scenery is 
grand. On one side of us rise the mountains, about which we 
are describing great arcs as we follow these curves, while a 
great valley yawns at the other side — a valley of jungle, of 
tropical forest and s of irrigated tracts of land. Beyond, the 
mountains rise again to great heights. The scene is in soft 
tints of delicate greens and pale yellows. Higher and higher 
we climb, while we look back and below us on four or five 
scallops, around which we have just circled. 

At last I arrived at Darjeeling, 7,500 feet above the sea. I 
had asked Mr. Higgins to telegraph for a room here and for a 
man to meet me at the station, which man presented himself 
after I had secured a boy and started off by myself to the hotel. 
I was then put into a sort of cart, with my back to the pony that 
drew it, and was driven up here. The hotel is about an eighth 
of a mile from the depot, and almost directly above it. One has 
to travel fully a mile by cart to get to it. Darjeeling is an ex- 
ceedingly pretty place, unlike anything I have seen before. It 
is laid in terraces on the side of the mountain. Looking down 
from the hotel, the streets form an interlaced and zigzag pat- 
tern. I should never know how to get to any given house in 
this place. It is like one of those labyrinth puzzles that you try 
to get to the center of without crossing a line. The safest way 
is to do as Alice did in the " Looking-G-lass House," turn your 
back to a place, and presently you find yourself walking in at 
the front door. 

I was told it was bitter cold up here. It is like our early Oc- 
tober nights, no frost, yet people here think it is fearfully cold. 
They say they sometimes have two feet of snow, in a tone that 
implies that that is hardly believable but true. The natives 
here are of another sort ; several sorts, in fact. One kind are 
called Boutiliers ; they look like Patagonian Indians and they 
wear boots of wool-and-patchwork make and material. They 
speak an entirely different language from the Calcutta people. 
I find a servant from Calcutta would, therefore, be quite useless 
to me here. 

After supper the guests of the hotel, two in number, stepped 
with me into the gardens to look at the eternal snows of the 



124 PRECIPITOUS CLIMBING. 

Kinchin junga range of mountains by moonlight. The sombre 
silence of the night, with the pale light of the moon, impresses 
me deeply with the remoteness and grandeur of those towering 
heights whose snow-crowned jagged peaks are outlined in glit- 
tering white against the darkening sky. 

After ordering a horse to be in readiness for me at five in the 
morning, I went to bed, where, in spite of the open fire in the 
room, and my rug, which I put on the bed, and my shawl, in 
which I had wrapped my feet, I shivered through the night, 
only napping now and then. It was not really cold, but the 
room had the damp chill of a subterranean dungeon. I was 
glad to leave my inhospitable bed at four o'clock, dress by the 
light of a lamp, and after a cup of warm tea, go out into the 
yard where my horse and a native servant called a "Syce" 
waited my pleasure. I mounted and started off, the Syce, who 
spoke not a word of English, accompanying me on foot. 

We followed a very good road that wound still higher up the 
mountains for about five miles, and then, dwindling to a mere 
trail, it struck suddenly up through the forest and tangled un- 
dergrowth over a very steep hill. My Syce literally dragged 
my horse up this precipitous path, while I clung to my saddle 
as best I might. Sometimes we encountered great boulders and 
ledges, up Avhich my Syce climbed first, and then, tugging 
at my rein, persuaded my horse to rear up and make a great 
spring after Mm. It was the very hardest climbing I ever saw 
a horse do. At last we reached the top and found a plateau, 
and at its furthest edge a mound with a flagstaff. Bent on per- 
forming his whole duty, my Syce dragged my horse and me to 
the top of this mound, and with a comprehensive wave of his 
hand round about left me to rest and admire. 

I have no words to paint the grandeur and beauty of the 
scene about me. I stand upon a jutting pinnacle, and at my 
feet sinks a tremendous valley which sweeps up in the distance 
to the vast mountains that tower grandly among the clouds. 
The highest mountains in the world are before me, and the mag- 
nificent scale on which the whole scene is drawn is overpower- 
ingly impressive. The picture is in pale tints ; the valley is pale 
green, the mountain sides yellow, and the snowy crowns of the 
majestic peaks dazzlingly white under the rays of the morning 
sun. The highest mountain in the world, Mount Everest, is 



GRANDEUR AND BEAUTY. 125 

hardly to be distinguished from the white clouds, so high, so dis- 
tant, so pale is its snowy peak, but the ragged edges of the Kin- 
chinjunga range, lonesome and icy, are clearly cut against the 
pale blue sky. A white cloudy mist rises from the valley, float- 
ing hither and thither, now muffling the mountains in a fairy 
mantle, now framing their beauty in fleecy wreaths, now re- 
vealing, now concealing their beauties, and ever ringing 
kaleidoscopic changes on the lovely picture. 

At last I dismount, and we commence to descend the impos- 
sible trail I have been dragged up. My Syce leads the horse, 
and I gather up my skirts and follow in their footsteps, jumping 
from one muddy boulder to another, conscious that I am pass- 
ing through the haunts of ferocious wild beasts and poisonous 
reptiles. I am told that the beautiful mist I have just been ad- 
miring encompassed a party a few days ago on "Tiger Hill," as 
the flagstaff mound I've just left is suggestively, called ; and 
when it lifted a horse left standing by the flagstaff was found 
killed and partially devoured by a tiger. This story, told me at 
the hotel, increases materially my enjoyment of the trip. 

At the foot of Tiger Hill we traverse the edge of a long plateau 
that reviews the glorious scene I've just been admiring from 
above, and after many pauses at points of vantage for fresh 
views of the incomparable picture, I set off on a canter for the 
hotel, leaving my Syce behind me. 

By dint of asking an English girl here and a soldier there, and 
finally a boy, and by dropping the rein on my horse's neck at 
doubtful turns, I manage to thread the labyrinth of roads and 
eventually find myself looking down on the hotel from a road 
above it ; and the proprietor thereof calls to me to go on a 
quarter of a mile further and I will find a road that will 
bring me to the house, where I presently arrive jubilant and 
hungry. 

I get some breakfast and proceed to the depot, accompanied 
by an elderly gentleman who kindly sees me safely stowed in 
my car, and I am off for Calcutta. As the train carries me 
away, I look back and up at Darjeeling, perched on the side of 
the mountains, and think what a pretty place it is, and how nice 
it is for the people who live with such a beautiful view of 
mountains and valley ever before my eyes. I like India better 
for having seen Darjeeling. 



126 PLENTY O^ TIGERS. 

I take the same course down the mountain, admiring all the 
way along. The winding road of the railway produces an ever- 
changing picture of valleys and mountains. I am told that in 
this jungle below the track, and above, there are plenty of 
tigers, but that they never come up on the track. I find the 
railway restaurants are better than the Great Eastern Hotel at 
Calcutta. 

I have one fault to find with the railroad management ; they 
never tell you anything ; the traveling public is left to find out 
for itself where it changes cars and where it takes "tiffin." The 
trains are constantly sliding off onto sidings and waiting for 
heaven knows what ; sometimes for another train to pass, some- 
times for recent slides to be removed, sometimes for dining. If 
the latter, the railroad' employes simply depart ; the passengers 
one after another step out to stretch their limbs and see what is 
going on, and eventually discover that they are within an eighth 
of a mile of the restaurant, and walk up to it. The inert, in- 
curious ones like myself stay on the cars and think they ought 
to be near the tiffin depot ; and presently the car glides up to 
the depot and the bell rings for the passengers to get aboard ; 
and most of them having just arrived, are obliged to leave their 
dinners before having commenced them. Your through ticket, 
which takes you on three railroads, says simply, on each cou- 
pon, "To Darjeeling," indicating no termini. If you ask the 
guard a question, he looks dazed; and even a close cross-examin- 
ation elicits only the most equivocal information. The idea of 
any one not knowing that you change cars at Siligura, and that 
this is or is not Siligura, is beyond their comprehension. They 
know when and where they take tiffin perfectly well. 

Coming back, I had a car to myself again all night, and 
managed to sleep well, although I caught a severe cold. Had 
breakfast on board the boat crossing the horrid Ganges again. 
On the next train a lady was in the car with me, a lady who 
had made up her mind to talk. I fended a little but finally 
gave in. Her husband wanted to lunch with her, and of course 
I agreed to his coming in ; he proved to be one of the owners of 
the Ganges boats, and between them they imparted loads of 
information. He finished by taking us both to ride on the en- 
gine, where I distinguished myself by starting and stopping the 
train. They put on full speed for our benefit, and I just enjoyed 



RIDE ON A LOCOMOTIVE. 127 

flying down the track that was stretching before us. It made 
the other lady seasick, but I should like to have ridden there 
to Calcutta. 

No. 10 Middleton Eow, Calcutta, January Bd, 1885. — Got 
back to find the "Great Eastern" crammed full. Rushed to 
Cook's and their man, who had just brought me from the depot, 
rode with me from place to place until I found a " where to lay 
my head," and I was ready to lay it, too, by that time. Event- 
ually found my way to this house, which is a dozen times more 
comfortable and neat than the aforesaid "Great Eastern," 
although I am situated on the ground floor, and there is a 
beautiful large drain opening from the floor of my bathroom 
into the garden, for snakes to come in — b-r-r-r ! — and none of 
the boys speak English. Having achieved my trip in safety and 
ease, and alone, my friends are all trying to rob me of my glory 
by thinking up ladies who have done the same thing. But I 
need not take back my hurrah yet ; these other ladies, one or 
two, had lived here and understood the language perfectly, 
while I speak not a word, and am a "stranger in a strange 
land." 

Since I have been back I have been besieged with servants. 
At half -past six A. M., they swarm at my door ; I tear my hair 
and say: "Go away; come back at tiffin time and I'll look at 
your letters ; " till finally one whom I have dismissed peremp- 
torily because he doesn't speak English enough, takes possession 
of me. and sends away all the ones I wanted to see when I got 
dressed, including those that Cook's are sending me. I manage 
to oust him finally and go without, until Cook sends me a staid 
gray-bearded man that I take without further parley. It seems 
absolutely compulsory in Calcutta to have a servant, but, oh, 
how they do worry and torment one and retard one's move- 
ments ! People who live here, however, get used to them and 
their slowness. 

I am opening the eyes of Indian residents with my rapidity ; 
they get to counting on me, and presently I am gone. People 
are so slow here it takes half a day to draw a check or to do any 
trivial thing. If a train is going at 2:20 P. M., and it takes 
twenty minutes to reach the depot, they say they will come for 
you at twelve or half past, and one o'clock is the very latest 
they will start, "They want time to lounge around the depot 



128 THE SACRED GANGES. 

and sit in the car twenty minutes or so before it goes. Getting 
into this nice boarding house I find two fellow passengers of 
the Tibre, Mr. and Mrs. Durant, installed here, and a gentleman 
to whom I was introduced at the ball, of which ball — later. I 
go to the races with my friends, meet all the "Tibre Officers" 
there, and witness the arrival of the Viceroy's cortege, brilliant 
with red-and-gold postilions and dashing horses. 

Mr. Cool calls and takes me to Barrakpore, where I see my 
first Hindoo temple and watch a man praying to the Ganges on 
the steps of a ghaut, an occupation which savors strongly of an 
acrobatic performance. He knocks his forehead against a stone 
for five or ten minutes together, rises and kneels and bows and 
clasps his hands and prays, and touches his forehead to the 
ground, until we are tired of looking and go on. It is absurd 
sending missionaries to these people ; they are far, far more 
religious than we are. I think that we corrupt the morals of 
these heathen people. It is well understood in India that the 
less civilized a native man is, the more honest a servant he 
makes. 

We saw girls come down to the river and wash, first themselves 
then their clothes, and then their cooking apparatus ; and after 
that fill their jars with water, and then take, a drink from the 
river before leaving it, finally throwing a few drops of water 
over themselves. We took a boat and were rowed up the river 
a little way, looking at the residences on either side. Then we 
returned to our "gharry" and were driven out towards the jun- 
gle, where the government elephants reside. There are fifty of 
these in all. I saw about thirty, some of them just coming from 
the jungle, where they go and gather their own food. Each 
elephant has a "Mahout" or "words to that effect," who takes 
care of him. One of the big beasts was being fed by a little 
naked native boy of eight years, who would not let him have the 
piece of sugar cane he was fixing for him until it was arranged 
to his entire satisfaction. He slapped the elephant's trunk and 
scolded at him when he attempted to take it, and finally reached 
up and tucked the choice morsel into the creature's capacious 
mouth. The Mahouts slide up and down the elephant's trunk, 
and sweep off the elephant's back, and scold him while he is 
eating, apparently ordering him to eat properly and masticate 
his food sufficiently. After this we went and had some tea at a 



IN A HURRY. 129 

little hotel opposite the station, and then returned to Calcutta 
in time for dinner. 

To-day, at 9 P. M., I am off for Benares, Delhi, Jeypore and 
Agra, Bombay being" my objective point. I shall reach Bombay 
on the 13th of January and sail for Suez on the 16th. 

And now to return to the ball which took place before my 
going to Darjeeling. The Commissaire escorted me and we were 
met by the Commandante and the other French officers I knew. 
The invitation was in French, and the ball was at the house of 
the French Consul. There I was introduced to the hostess and 
guests, who had been told of the " Juene Americaine " who was 
"Si courageuse et si joli et si amiable " they said, and were full 
of curiosity to see me. My dancing card was presently full, 
and as the evening advanced my waltzes were being divided 
by my partners with less favored individuals. I was being lent 
to this one's cousin for a turn and that one's chum, and walked 
assiduously up and down between dances. My waltzing was 
supposed to be perfection. At three A. M., I deserted, leaving 
seven partners, to whom I was engaged for future dances, 
desolee. I went to sleep on the hardest bed, a mattress that 
would put the floor to blush for its hardness, and dreamt I was 
sleeping on the stone floor I had danced on. Up again at eight 
A. M., completed all my arrangements, packed my trunk, got 
some lunch, and off I went to Darjeeling, sleeping that night on 
the cars, and reaching Darjeeling the next day at four P. M., 
leaving again the next morning after my horseback ride at 
10:45 A. M. Quick work, n'est ce pas ? That just suits me. 

Now I must say a word about the people I am meeting, per- 
haps the best class of Europeans. I am growing to have an 
excellent opinion of young French and English gentlemen. I 
am treated by them all with so much courtesy, consideration 
and respect. Nothing could have been more perfectly polite 
and respectful than the care and attention I received from the 
French officers in going to the ball, or than their efforts to 
make the evening a thoroughly enjoyable one to me. The 
Commandante was an elderly, genial man, with amiable brows 
and a serene fatherly manner. The Commissaire is quite young, 
but very quiet, unobtrusive and gentlemanly. Then the young 
Englishman, Mr. Cool, is quite young also ; well bred, of the 
dainty, dandy order, but exceedingly sensible and practical ; a 



130 SIGHTS OF CALCUTTA. 

very pretty young 1 man, but not at all affected. And Mr. 
Cabel, also English, is altogether courteous and entertaining. 
They trot around with me on business or pleasure, relieve me 
of every difficulty, place themselves so entirely at my service 
in such an irresistible way, in sheer sociability and compan- 
ionableness ; there is no question of romance, it is simply friend- 
liness and good nature. They think me courageous and enter- 
taining, and it pleases them to play the cavalier, although I am, 
relatively speaking, old enough to be their grandmother. 
Strictly speaking I am twenty -six, while they are from twenty 
to twenty-seven. 

It seems to me that these young Englishmen from twenty to 
twenty -seven years of age are better informed and better bred 
than our young men ; they have more general knowledge and 
interests. Our young Americans are apt to be cubs until they 
are nearly thirty and then business monopolizes them. Of 
course I haven't got to Europe yet, but here I find Europeans 
entertaining, well bred and gentlemanly. 

It is fortunate I did not go to Canton. Mr. Cool, who went, 
only just saw Canton and escaped ; a friend of his came away 
with some shot in his legs. I ought to be sorry I didn't go. 
If I had nothing would have happened. I never do have any 
exciting adventures. 

Calcutta is called the city of palaces. I've been looking for 
the palaces ever since I've been here. They are a myth ; so are 
the tigers and cobras and sights. They say to me : "Why, you 
haven't seen any of the sights of Calcutta." "What sights?" 
I ask. "Why, the Botanical Gardens." And I tear my hair 
and weep. 

Benares, January 5th. — I left Calcutta last night; was 
attended to the depot by one of the nice young Englishmen and 
Cook's man. Found I was to have one English lady in the 
compartment with me. She proved pleasant ; like me she did 
not want to talk, but was exceedingly kind and obliging. I was 
on the cars until to-day at three, when I arrived at Mogul 
Serai, and was met by a guide sent from Clark's Hotel for me. 
We took another train, which crept along for about twenty 
minutes, and then we took a "gharry " and crossed the Ganges 
on a bridge and road for about an hour before we reached the 
hotel. 



PRIMITIVE HABITATIONS. 131 

After eighteen hours on the cars I was still able to be about, 
so I started out at once to see the Monkey Temple ; it was not 
worth seeing, but the town was. I went and inspected the recep- 
tion room of a Rajah and his elephants. It was dark before 
we started home. The people were all in the streets ; sometimes 
it was so crowded we could hardly drive through. My native 
footmen got down and ran in front to clear the way. The 
houses are of mud and have the appearance of having been 
shaped up with the hands as children shape mud houses, for 
the sides are not evenly flat nor .the corners sharp; they are 
round and the bottom slopes off to the ground. Parts of many 
houses, and sometimes the whole house, have no roof. Fence, 
garden wall and house, are all of mud or clay. They have 
wooden doors and straw roofs. The door is often the only 
opening. I look, in passing, through these doors and see 
sometimes only a clay box of an apartment, full to the door, 
frequently with bed and clothes. At other times I see through 
an inner door and catch a glimpse of an interior garden or 
courtyard. 

The ride through the crowded city at night is interesting. 
The streets seem to be a general market place and the flare of 
fires and lights and the multitude of people are a novelty. I am 
just a little frightened until we are in the heart of the city and 
my guide says he is at home, and with my permission he will 
remain there and come to me again in the morning. My spirits 
rise to the occasion ; I say a bright "good night" and am driven 
on through the crowds of Indians, with only my non-English 
speaking coachman. I arrive at the hotel safely, however, 
have a good supper, inspect a lot of copper work, go to bed, to 
start off again in the morning at seven ; through the town 
again by daylight, to the river. 

Now this is something like ! This is India, romantic, pictur- 
esque, dirty. Benares would be heautif ul if it were not so gray. 
It has a decidely Moorish air to me. The banks of the Ganges 
are extremely picturesque. They are high and surmounted 
with old and turreted palaces and temples. Stone stairs the; 
length of the temples reach down to the water's edge. I took a 
boat and was rowed up and down the river this morning, and 
it was the most picturesque and novel scene I have had the 
pleasure of seeing yet. 



132 " BACKSHEESH. " 

On these steps, or "ghauts," are little niches and stone plat- 
forms, in which are gods and on which are priests. The priests 
sit with their backs to the sun, and under an immense, mush- 
room-like umbrella. The steps are covered with people going 
up and down, some carrying jars of water on their heads and 
shoulders ; here and there are men standing or kneeling and 
praying. We passed one crazy man singing and shouting, on 
the banks of the river, at the top of his voice. The water is full 
of men, women, and children, washing themselves, their 
clothes, their brass jars, getting water, drinking water, laugh- 
ing, chatting, praying. 

What a scene ! Here is a man bumping his forehead on the 
stones in prayer ; here is another plastering himself with col- 
ored and white clay ; here is a woman washing her baby ; and 
here a pretty young girl of wealth, with her female attendant 
splashing water over her ; here several old women laughing 
and gossiping, and here a lot of men beating clothes on stone 
slabs and spreading them on the ground to dry, and a vast con- 
course of people are ever coming and going. There is a pleas- 
ing contrast of color in the robes that brighten the picture. A 
beautiful, a charming scene, but oh! don't look at the water, 
for the " sacred Ganges " is a gutter, a ditch, a sewer, every- 
thing that is dreadful, in short. The palaces were built by Rajahs 
with the idea that their dying in them would insure an imme- 
diate entrance into Paradise. I see a burning ghaut or so, but 
not any in active operation. The boat I was in was a large row- 
boat with a green blind saloon. I was seated on the hurricane 
deck while viewing these scenes. 

As I step out of the boat five or six little bronze children 
robed in doubtful white plant themselves before me, forming a 
semicircle, each holding out two small hands, with a simulta- 
neous cry of "Backsheesh." I put a quarter of a rupee (about 
eight cents) into the smallest hand, with an explanatory circular 
movement, and they disperse instantly and hold a jubilee over 
what is to them a large sum on the temple steps behind me. 

Leaving Benares late in the afternoon, I discover I am no 
longer the sole American traveling in lonely state, for a gentle- 
man of my own country happens to be traveling my way. I 
had crossed his path once or twice at Benares ; and after en- 
countering him again at the ticket office, we are led about by 



PALACE OV AKBAR THE STRONG. 133 

the same official as our tickets are made up and our baggage at- 
tended to, and at last we find ourselves in neighboring car- 
riages, so that when we put our heads out of our respective 
windows when the train halts at depots we exchange some 
civilities. 

Reaching Agra on the following morning, our ways still lie 
side by side, and after finding ourselves near neighbors in the 
hotel and meeting at the table and discovering that we both 
mean to remain at Agra but a single day, we shake hands 
and agree to visit the sights in company, instead of following 
each other about in solitary state. We thereupon order a car- 
riage and a guide and depart on a tour of the place. 

We go first to Agra fort, which is built on an eminence close 
at hand and overlooks the town. The fort is built of red sand- 
stone, and is very large and picturesque. Within the fortress 
grounds stands the Palace of Akbar the Strong, and the beauti- 
ful Pearl Mosque. This magnificent palace actually surpasses 
in richness and beauty the wonderful creations the fairy tales 
of our childhood have pictured. It is built principally of white 
marble. We saunter through the large sunny rooms of polished 
white marble. There are marble floors; marble ceiling, marble 
pillars and marble walls whose white surfaces are inlaid with 
precious stones and jewels, formed to represent sprigs of leaves 
and flowers. The sprigs are placed at regular intervals, so the 
walls have the appearance of being covered with a brilliantly 
flowered wall paper. Malachite is used for the leaves, and is 
so ingeniously inlaid as to show a half- turned leaf with a duller 
green for the under side. Lapis lazuli is very lavishly used, 
and mother-of-pearl is formed into beautiful blossoms, from 
whence delicate stamens, with turquoise, sapphires and rubies 
capping them, arise. Diamonds, emeralds, garnets, and every 
precious stone known are to be seen worked into flowers to 
adorn these walls, and all with a profusion Only equalled by the 
-art with which they have been so placed. The apartments are 
large, bright and airy, those of the Emperor and his favorite 
wife looking out upon Jumna. 

We are shown the private gardens for the ladies of the harem, 
and a magnificent bath of polished marble sunk in the floor, 
with marble steps leading down into it. In the garden I see 
a great slab of black marble which was once the royal seat for 



134 THE PEARL MOSQUE. 

Moguls, and which took upon itself the function of splitting 
across and weeping blood when sat upon by an odious Rajah. 
I saw the crack. 

We then went beneath the palace, through a dark, subter- 
ranean passage, to a dismal underground chamber, Where the 
unfortunate wives who incurred the Imperial displeasure were 
once consigned to the sack and placed in a hole in the floor, 
whence a passage connected with the river and whence the waters 
carried them, cold and dead, out to the Jumna. 

The life of an Emperor's wife had its drawbacks. This hea- 
then mode of disposing of superfluous or refractory wives is, 
however, far preferable to the fashion of beating them to death 
that obtains in our own enlightened country and in those of 
Christian Europe. 

The beautiful Motee Musjid, or Pearl Mosque, is also within 
the walls of the fort, and is as lovely as its name implies. It is 
built of snowy marble and is open across the entire . front. 
Pillars of white marble support the roof, and three exquisitely 
molded domes of dazzling white marble surmount it. Across 
the front the marble wall is cut in a series of most perfect 
arches, each arch being formed of nine smaller arches, each one 
as perfect in outline as the other. On the ceiling, just beneath 
the roof, an inscription runs in black marble inlaid in the white. 
The figures being Hindostanee the effect is rather ornamental. 
The white marble floor is inlaid with black marble in such a 
manner as to mark off a block for each worshiper to kneel upon. 
At one side a lattice of carved marble screens an apartment 
reserved for the ladies of the harem. 

We drive from the fort with its magnificent palace and 
Mosque to the Taj Mahal, the most beautiful structure in the 
world. The Taj is set in the midst of a luxuriant garden on the 
banks of the Jumna, and is built of milk white marble. A 
square marble foundation, on each corner of which rises a very 
tall and slender minaret, forms an elevated floor on which an. 
octagonal building rests. Within this building are the tombs of 
the E mperor and the beloved wife to whom this perfect piece of 
architecture was raised ; and above it rises a dome so perfect in 
proportion and outline, so dazzling in marble whiteness, as to 
seem to have been created by the hand of some powerful genii 
rather than raised by the laborious efforts of men. The 



A COSTLY CREATION. 135 

octagonal body of the building- is ornamented with much elabor- 
ately carved marble lattice work. Entering the door we note 
that the inner walls, from the outer posts, are inlaid, like the 
palace, with precious stones in the same lavish profusion and with 
the same artistic skill. Emeralds, diamonds, sapphires, rubies, 
granets, turquoise, carnelian, glitter against the snowy white- 
ness of the walls, while malachite, lapis lazuli and pearl form 
supple, waving, leaves and petals to the flowers that seem to 
bloom upon the walls. Agate, coral, onyx, bloodstones, and 
chalcedony are also used in beautifying these walls. In the 
center of this begemmed apartment is a carved marble railing, 
within which are two marble sarcophagi, the tombs of the 
Emperor Shah Jehau and his beloved wife ' ' Muntaz Mahal, the 
chosen of the palace," or "Moomtaza Zumanee, the Light of 
the World," or "Arjmand Banee Begum." These sarcophagi 
are, like the walls, profusely inlaid with precious stores. The 
surrounding lattice is formed by eight single slabs of marble, 
each slab being between six and eight feet square, and carved 
in patterns and scroll work until it resembles a delicate white 
lace. 

About this beautiful tomb are lovely, park-like grounds, with 
trees, grass, flowers and fountains. The whole structure of 
snowy marble and graceful outline rises from the midst of the 
green, luxuriant foliage, a vision of loveliness, a very poem of 
form, of beauty, of purity, of grace. 

This most magnificent, most beautiful and costly, creation was 
raised to the memory of a woman. A wife and, the mother of 
seven children has the most superb tomb the world can show. 
The inscription, "To the memory of an undying love," greets 
one on entering and adds romantic interest to the admiration of 
the visitor. 

Back of the Taj stands another beautiful building in white 
marble, with a short, thick tower at each corner, and a central 
dome. This is hardly less beautiful than the Taj, between 
which and itself lies a double walk by the sides of a long basin of 
water dotted with fountains. It is carved to such a degree that 
it looks like a building of white lace. 

Fort, Palace, Mosque and Taj are truly magnificent and 
beautiful ; they represent a past grandeur and royal luxury, and 
immense wealth. Nothing that I have seen before in the way 



136 INDESCRIBABLE FORMS OF DRESS. 

of temples or palace can compare with these in richness, size, 
beauty or art. The palace rooms are large and light and built 
with some reference to ventilation and habitableness. 

In Agra, as in Benares, it interests me much to drive through 
the streets of the native city. If Benares has a Moorish flavor 
Agra has a Persian air. Here there are open stores filled with 
goods and busy people, with balconies above veiled with bam- 
boo curtains, through which you can dimly see women peeping. 
The dress varies in each place somewhat. In Calcutta they 
wore white hats, or yards and yards of white muslin twisted 
about the heads, and another arrangement of yards and yards 
of white muslin about their bodies. In Benares they wore a large 
square piece of white cotton (very doubtful white) put over the 
head and two corners crossed in front and tied at the back, 
forming a hood and cloak. In Agra the women wore white 
full skirts and the shawl over the head, but there are many and 
indescribable forms of dress in the East. In Japan, China, 
Java, Ceylon, and India it is either an extremely abbreviated 
garment, or an absurdly full and long one, or an artistic 
arrangement of white muslin quite beyond description and 
sometimes very graceful. 

Traveller's Bungalow Hotel, Delhi, January 8th. — 
Left Agra yesterday morning quite alone again, having said 
good-bye to my chance companion at the end of a day's sight- 
seeing together ; exchanged my Cook's ticket at the depot, and 
attended to the weighing of my baggage myself, much to the 
distress of the hotel man, who was deputed to look after me, and 
to my own satisfaction. But I found I had an English Major 
and his wife and daughter for traveling companions as soon as 
I entered the car, so my traveling alone was of short duration. 
Had to change cars and wait an hour and lose my lunch at a 
depot, and was given the shortest of short eighteen minutes to 
dine at a later station ; arrived at Delhi at 9 P. M., captured the 
hotel man, and drove here without mishap. . 

At the hotel I find an army of fee hunting servants coaxing a 
very smoky fire in my room. I chive them all out. " I don't 
want any tea." " Stop blowing the fire." " Don't touch that 
shawl strap." " Let the satchel alone. " "G-ood night." And 
I fall to bolting my doors — five doors — and each bolt in worse 
condition than the other ; but I have made up my mind to have 



DELHI'S MOSQUES AND PALACES. 137 

them bolted, and they, like most difficulties, yield at last to my 
determination. And then I go to sleep and let the smoky fire 
smoke itself out, and hear a noise that is a cross between an 
earthquake and a hurricane thunderstorm, but don't wake up 
sufficiently to determine which it is, until in the morning I 
create a sensation by saying at breakfast, "Oh, was that a 
thunderstorm? I thought it was an earthquake." In fact my 
sedate English travelers seem to be very much amused at my 
remarks on sights and guides and hotels as we breakfast 
together. I had risen at seven, had my tea and toast and been 
out to drive and had seen all the temples before breakfast. 

I am outdoing Cook, getting ahead of the itinerary he has made 
for me, a specially rapid one at my behest. I get to a place 
feeling quite unfatigued, go and see all the sights, and drive my 
guide crazy trying to think up more things for me to see. This 
one is really put to it to keep me busy. They drove me crazy at 
first, showing me English hospitals, monuments, schools, 
orphan asylums, churches, barracks, botanical gardens, and 
museums ; but now I say to them : " I'll discharge you on the 
spot if you show me anything English." As if I had come all 
the way to India to see a wooden seven-by-nine English Mis- 
sionary church ! I am a tireless traveler and sightseer. Fatigue 
and nervousness are weaknesses of the past. I am drinking 
fairly strong tea, two and three times a day, because the water 
is unfit to drink, and I sleep at night,' in hotels or on cars, like 
a top, and rise as fresh from a night on the cars as from a bed 
of down, and ready for a day's sightseeing. I arrive in a rush 
and depart in a hurry, but without the discomfort of an in- 
creased heart beat. In New York I hated sightseeing ; it was 
the hardest work I knew. Here I go through it as calmly and 
peacefully and untiringly as possible. 

Here in Delhi I have been over several mosques and palaces 
and mausoleums, as large and almost as magnificent as those at 
Agra, and have seen miles of ruins. The ruins are really grand 
and picturesque. The crumbling walls of immense forts and 
mosques and mausoleums give the country a very romantic 
look, and bring to one's mind all the stories of the early ages, 
"when knights were bold, and barons held their sway," as the 
song says, although this is not Germany. The crumbling ram- 
parts, with faded domes and minarets rising behind them, and 



138 NATIVE VILLAGES. 

the deep arched gateways, are suggestive of long-sustained 
sieges. It is really a ruined city I drive through, and it repre- 
sents an earlier power and grandeur and art that exceed any- 
thing I have seen. The palaces and tombs and temples are all 
on a magnificent scale, with a reference to air and light and 
space that I have not seen in any other country. 

Having finished the sights here, I should depart to-night for 
Jeypore, but the trains don't keep pace with my mood. 

I saw a quantity of wild monkeys climbing over garden walls 
in the city this morning ; I see wild parrots every day, and also 
camels, singly and in troops, loaded and being driven along. 
They use donkeys and buffalo and oxen as beasts of burden, 
and they do, literally, guide the latter animals by twisting their 
tails. Where they have wells, they have a bank sloping up to 
it ; hitch oxen to the skin-bucket chains that run over a bar, 
and drive the oxen down the hill to draw up the water. The 
native villages that I see from the car window, far from any 
English settlement, are groups of irregular mud walls, without 
roofs sometimes, looking very much as though they had been 
scooped up from the wide shallow ditch that runs along par- 
allel with the railroad track. The natives bathe and wash in 
the puddles of muddy water at the bottom of the ditch. The 
people climb around in the cracks between the houses that do 
duty for streets in these villages. Sometimes I don't feel sure 
whether I am looking at a village or a group of haystacks or 
mud hills. For a long distance I crossed pretty barren plains, 
perfectly flat and only a tree or so in the distance. In the early 
morning I would see five or six men filing across the plains, 
one behind the other, in the most lonesome and dreary man- 
ner. I leave Delhi at seven in the morning for Jeypore ; shall 
reach Bombay three days earlier than Cook's agent put me 
down for. The hotels are very comfortable, and I am taking 
my five meals a day with great satisfaction. The Great Eastern 
at Calcutta is the worst hotel in India. It is only equalled in 
badness by the Astor House of Shanghai. I wear my ulster all 
the time in India. 

Empress of India Hotel, Jeypore, January 10th. — After 
a long day's travel I arrived here last night in time for dinner. 
I left my hotel yesterday morning before it was light and drove 
down through dark and deserted streets to the depot, went 



FROM DELHI TO JEYPORE. 139 

through, the weighing luggage and ticket making arrangement 
successfully, and eventually got off. You have to get to a 
depot about an hour before your train goes in order to give the 
officials time to make your ticket for you. They have the ticket 
cut to the right size, for a wonder, but that is all. They go to 
work and print it and stamp it and write on it with a slowness 
of movement that no one but an Indian could ever attain to. 
Weighing your baggage and making out a receipt is done in an 
equally deliberate manner, and if, on paying, you require any 
change your soul is doomed to perdition, for the most patient 
temper will give way under that strain. I think fondly of 
America, where the ticket office opens five or ten minutes before 
the train goes, and one man stamps and slaps down tickets 
and change for dozens, not to say hundreds, of people in that 
time. 

Half of the road between Delhi and Jeypore passed through 
hills set on the flat plains, like so many exaggerated haystacks. 
These hills were surmounted most picturesquely by old forts — 
castles, I should call them — with walls running entirely around 
the brow of the hill. On the plains were little villages, and the 
ground apparently under an attempt at cultivation. It dosen't 
look very arable. Hills and plains are alike bare and burnt 
and sandy. These old castles attract my fancy ; I should like to 
live in one of them, they look so romantic. 

Having outstripped my "itinery," I arrive here unheralded. 
On getting out of the cars I ask for the "Empress of India 
Hotel ■" man, and on mentioning my name am received with 
effusion. Cook's agent had written of my proposed arrival to 
each hotel. At the hotel I am stowed into a suite of apartments 
which are so many refrigerators in disguise. I freeze for awhile, 
then dine and partially thaw, and then go to bed to finish the 
thawing. Take my meals to-day in solitude and state, being 
the only guest of the house at present. 

I have spent the morning crushing my guide. I began last 
night. I declined to send my card to the Resident to get per- 
mission to look at the billiard room of the palace and gardens ; 
said I was tired of palaces and gardens and temples. He began 
this morning by pointing out a church. I wouldn't look at it 
because it was English. Then he showed me a park. I de- 
clined to stop or to be driven in. Then he showed me the gas 



1-10 CRUSHING A GUIDE — SOCIABLE CROWS. 

works and the water works. I said "English ! "• and shot him 
a glance that made him quake. He drove me through the outer 
grounds of the palace, which were not half so picturesque as 
the streets, and bewailed that I had not got the permission to 
go in. I was just enjoying myself, looking at the people as I 
drove past, when we drew up before a row of cages with three 
or four tigers in them. A man is letting down the carriage 
steps. I say "What is this for?" Guide (meekly), "To see 
the tigers." I say, "Drive on, I can see tigers every day in 
New York." I am enjoying myself again with the people, 
when we stop again. I read " Museum" on the door and say, 
' ' I'm not going to get out and see any museums. I refuse to 
see anything English." My guide is beginning to get dis- 
couraged. He asks if I will see the Museum of Art ? " No ! 
Good heavens, no!" "The Botanical Gardens?" There I 
crush him with one fearful glance, and we drive on. After 
that we simply drive about at random, I enjoying the ever- 
changing picture of the streets, my guide feeling his occupation 
gone. 

I see many camels and donkeys carrying stones, and the 
donkeys' loads are as large as the camels'. The children wear 
a cap with a long cape to it. The women of India carry jars 
of water on their heads, and sometimes one jar on the top of 
the other. All through the East are great numbers of large 
black crows. These crows have a preference for roosting on 
animals, and I see them constantly perched on the heads and 
backs of standing or reclining goats and cows. Once I saw a 
cow roll over a little, and a crow climbing cheerfully up from 
her spine to her side out of harm's way. This morning I saw a 
crow fly down with the intention of alighting on a donkey ; but 
the donkey, observing the intention, kicked up its heels until 
the crow gave up the contest. The cows are more sociable. I 
frequently see one eating quietly with two or three crows 
perched comfortably on her backbone. This reminds me of 
the long-legged bird I saw standing bolt upright on the back of 
a turtle in the Pacific Ocean. 

I still find that the people who know the least about the 
movements of trams are the railway officials. The most relia- 
ble information is to be got from hotel guides and fellow trav- 
elers. And one must carry all dining and "change cars" 



OTTOMAN RAILWAY OFFICIALS. 141 

depots in their heads, for no big voiced brakeman will come to 
the door and shout, ' ' Change cars for Jeypore ; passengers for 
Bombay please keep their seats ; " or "Ten minutes for refresh- 
ments." People in India must travel on their own responsi- 
bility entirely. I am afraid I have led the railway officials a 
hard life. I've been everlastingly lassoing them as they passed 
my car window and bombarding them with questions, when- 
ever I could get sight of one, for they keep themselves so very 
scarce. In all the railway restaurants and many of the hotels 
in India they have on the table, conspicuously placed, a Com- 
plaint Book — a good idea, I think. The only complaint I had 
was that they did not give me time to eat, much less to register 
my griefs. 

From Jeypore on I was all alone, and could therefore see more 
and rest more. I saw more old forts crowning hilltops, and 
numerous camels, also wild monkeys standing upright as our 
train flew by, with a baby monkey clinging to them or flying 
up into the trees for safety. 

At Amindabad, where I dined and changed cars, I saw more 
old buildings and two pairs of very tall turreted monuments 
most unique indeed. I have seen many places in passing that 
it would be pleasant to stop at a day or two and explore. The 
road between Amindabad and Bombay is the most horribly 
dusty road I ever hope to travel on. While running with the 
air blowing through the cars I did not mind it so much, but 
when we stopped the atmosphere was so thick and dusty and 
close and musty that I thought I should suffocate. 

Bombay, January 12th. — 'Tis done ! The long-dreaded jour- 
ney across India is accomplished. I arrived in Bombay this 
morning, bag and baggage, jolly and triumphant, and gleeful 
at the sight of the sea again. When I get on that same sea I 
shall rest. 

From Delhi to Jeypore and Jeypore to Bombay I contrived 
to have a compartment of the car to myself, which was a piece 
of luck. I came through from Jeypore without a stop, thirty- 
seven hours, two nights and one day. Nevertheless, I arrived 
here at seven this morning as fresh and chipper as if I hadn't 
slept two nights in my clothes, ulster and all ; been nearly frozen 
one night and the next choked with dust and jolted about on 
leathern cushions. I rushed immediately to the hotel, The 



J 42 BOMBAY— BRIGHTLY DRESSED AYAHS. 

Esplanade, where I lifted my trunks down off the head of an 
unhappy little fourteen-year-old native boy who had carried 
them alone up three flights of stairs. After a hath, fresh clothes 
and breakfast, I thought I had never felt so bright in my 
life. It is a lovely day and a carriage is at the door for me. I 
sally forth, and oh, how warm it is ! and how delightful it is to 
be where it is warm again. Bombay is pretty. 

At my banker's I draw a few rupees to finish India with, and 
receive a cherished packet of letters. I go to Cook's, get more 
hotel coupons and make suggestions in the way of improve- 
ments on the Cook plans which are graciously received by the 
agent who doesn't know exactly what to do about me. I leave 
him dazed and bewildered. Go to P. & O. S. S. Co.'s next, 
where I exchange my Cook's coupon for a bona fide ticket to 
Suez, per Steamship Massilia, leaving Bombay January 16th ; 
then back to hotel office, where I get permit to see the "Towers 
of Silence." Business is done ; am now ready to leave Bombay 
without delay on the day of sailing. Then I read my letters, 
take tiffin as a sort of " entre act." Some of my letters are for- 
warded from Singapore and therefore dafe way back before the 
flood. Here I am very pleasantly situated, Cook's coupons 
call for a room on the third floor. I can go below and pay a 
trifle more if I like. One floor below, the lovely picture I have 
before me is shut out by trees. From my window I look, when 
I raise my eyes from this diary, down upon a beautifully 
arranged park, surrounded by picturesque churches and church- 
like buildings (no wonder they call the depot ' : Church Gate 
Street" Station), and the park is filled with brightly dressed 
Ayahs (nurses) and children and native soldiers or police. I 
have an Ayah before me, arrayed in flowing white from the 
top of her head down, with bars of scarlet finishing the edges 
and red sleeves. But oh, the tremendous turbans I've seen all 
through India. My last bearer in Calcutta was a regular Blue- 
beard, with his immense twisted cloth turban and gray beard 
and sardonically curling mustache. 

And now I want to commence a chapter of mistakes. I have 
made three mistakes in my travels. The first mistake was in 
not going from San Francisco to Australia via the Sandwich 
Islands, and from Australia up to Hong Kong. But then I 
should not have met the Paymaster and the Diplomat, and had 



HOW TO ENJOY TRAVEL. 143 

their letters of introduction, which were valuable to me. The 
second mistake was in not going 1 to Canton and having a nar- 
row escape, and going on to Singapore by the French mail, 
which made easy connections with the Batavia steamer. But 
then, again, I should not have met some of the delightful peo- 
ple whose acquaintance I have made. The third mistake was in 
not going to Calcutta via Eangoon and Moulmein and seeing 
the elephants pile lumber. But then, once more, I should not 
have met the charming French officers nor have gone to the 
ball. No, I can't truly be sorry for these three mistakes, though 
I do wish I had seen Canton, and more particularly the Moul- 
mein elephants. But there is a fourth mistake which I am 
afraid I can't find any compensation for ; that was having 
failed to go from Jeyporeto visit the "Ancient City of Amber" 
on the back of an elephant. I lost my opportunity there, and I 
shall always regret the 'Ancient City of Amber" and the ele- 
phant ride. 

Here is a good place to philosophize a little. The secret of 
enjoying travel, I may say even the secret of happiness in life, 
is to like what you have, what comes to you, the existing state 
of things, whatever it may be ; to be able to see compensating 
comforts for every discomfort. I fancy I hear some one say : 
"Take the lesson to yourself, Mrs. Gummidge." And sol 
will. There is hardly a tragedy in my life, from babyhood up, 
that I am not glad of after all — which I do not find has been 
really to my advantage — most of them in the way of strength- 
ening and making self-reliant my rather weak and timorous 
character. 

I think I hear a little feminine friend say: "Oh, yes, it's 
very easy to be happy when one always has one's own way." 
But, my dear little lady, I don't always have my own way. 
I've had many and many a desperate contest with wills counter 
to mine. All I do is to accept as mine the way I am compelled 
to take, and be glad of it on the whole. You, my little lady, 
while you think you would like to be in my place, would not 
like it at all ; you would be lonesome and frightened and nerv- 
ous ; you would suffer with cold, heat, dust, insufficient or un- 
palatable food, or fret for absent friends, and would allow these 
things to worry you. I can fancy even the most philosophical 
fuming over the discomforts of hotels and "cussing" the na- 



144 THE PHILOSOPHY OF CONTENTMENT. 

fives. I am taking all the annoyances as part of the fun. Per- 
haps, as a rule, I am rather fortunate, too. The hand I hold in 
life is like my usual hand at whist : four good hearts, three good 
clubs, three good diamonds, three good spades, with aces, kings, 
queens and jacks enough to make me hold high trumps what- 
ever turns up. If I lose the game it has been a close contest 
and I have enjoyed it. 

I can't find out whether any other woman has crossed India 
alone or not. I am told that ladies have been alone to Jey- 
pore, and ladies who have resided here for some years and un- 
derstand Hindoostanee go from one place to another alone. It 
is convenient to have a boy with you to look after your baggage 
while you dine in railway depots. All you really need, though, 
is about half a peck of two anna bits (five cent pieces) and you 
can get along very comfortably. 

One night at dinner here, having to wait through seven 
courses for something I wanted, I listened meanwhile to an 
English gentleman near me who was talking about Americans. 
He said he heard an American telling a Parsee that he thought 
Bombay was a "one horse town" and the Parsee was wiping 
the perspiration from his brow in the vain effort to comprehend. 
If there is one thing I enjoy more than another it is to hear 
English people talking to each other about America and Ameri- 
cans all unconscious of the presence of one of the criticised. 
They seem to think us very funny. After this the gentleman 
went on to talk about China and Japan, and I just pined to 
chime in and tell them all about it. A gentleman, opposite me 
at table to-day, was a New Yorker who was "blowing" 
about New York at a great rate. I was so pleased to see a "fel- 
ler citizen " again that I could have flown across the table and 
embraced him. If he had known that I was a New Yorker too 
I've no doubt that I should have met with an enthusiastic recep- 
tion. This is the first place I've found in a tropical country where 
they have any fruit fit to eat. The oranges here are good. The 
orange grows loose from the skin. It would rattle around in its 
skin if it were not for innumerable connecting threads between 
the two ; as it is you shell out your orange like a hazel-nut, and 
then it comes to pieces so easily, it is quite a comfort to eat it. 

A long drive up Malabar Hill brought me to the " Towers of 
Silence," where the Parsee dispose of their dead after a manner 



TOWERS OF SILENCE — OAVES OF ELEPHANTA. 145 

peculiar to themselves. The Parsee idea is to avoid defiling 
Mother Earth with the cast-off garment of flesh, and so they 
have constructed these towers of granite and iron, with an iron 
grating for a floor on which the dead are laid. The towers are 
roofless, and vultures swarm upon the top of the walls, ready to 
strip the flesh from the corpse placed within. The clean and 
fleshless bones then fall through the grating into a well of water 
beneath, the floor of which is laid with lime and charcoal, so 
that even the water therein is purified before it reaches Mother 
Earth. The vultures' work is quickly done, and nothing is left 
to offend the sight or breed corruption or disease. The towers 
don't tower much ; they look like whitewashed tanks that one 
may see alongside of railway houses. The vultures sit on the edges 
looking as innocent as you please. The gardens are pretty, and 
the view, being at the summit of Malabar Hill, was fine indeed. 
I got up at an unearthly hour one morning to go on a steam 
launch to see the Caves of Elephanta. We sail across the bay 
for an hour and then climb some stairs, and there we see the 
story of the creation modeled in massive stone — a cave cut in the 
granite, with large pillars of stone. On the stone walls great 
bas-relief pictures are cut, representing the Bramin tale of crea- 
tion, which is in many respects identical with the Christian 
story. Here we have Brahma and Vishnu (Adam and Eve), 
before the separation, united in one body ; and here, on the 
other hand, they are separated and stand side by side, a com- 
plete man and perfect woman ; and here another picture rep- 
resents a birth, which is also the result of an immaculate con- 
ception. In all the pictures there is the ever present serpent, 
and the angels hovering about overhead, while below and in 
corners are the devils, apparently having their own opinion of 
the whole affair. At the top of each stone picture is a cross cut 
into the stone and shepherds' crooks, and angels are represented 
in the Christian attitude of prayer to the cross. They apparent- 
ly sit on damp clouds and sing just like Christian angels, and 
the whole thing dates back ages before Christ. There is also a 
trio of gods like ours, Brahma and Vishnu and Siva ; Brahma, 
the Creator ; Siva, the Destroyer ; and Vishnu, the Healer, 
which is the best part of all. 



BOMBAY TO CAIRO. 

S. S. Massilia, Arabian Sea, January 18th. — I left Bombay 
very much pleased with the Esplanade Hotel and its managers. 
They gave just the gentlemanly personal attention to my wants 
that I think the correct tiling for hotel managers to do. I came 
on board ship in the company of an old French gentleman and 
his handsome daughter, whom I have been regarding with in- 
terest at the hotel. Arrived on board, I get myself and trunks 
stowed comfortably into the unusually large stateroom awarded 
tome. I fee my porters, and drive off successfully a dozen 
porters who imagine they can persuade me that they have ren- 
dered me numerous invaluable services for which they should 
receive munificent rewards. Fatigued but triumphant, I throw 
myself into a corner of the saloon lounge. A group of stylish 
looking ladies are monopolizing an officer on the other side of 
the saloon. Presently the officer glances at me ; I feel cross, I'm 
not looking at him ; what does he want to look at me for ? I'm 
only admiring the ladies. After several glances my way, to which 
I am to all intents perfectly oblivious, he disengages himself 
and moves toward me. I immediately turn my back and look 
out of the window ; he hesitates, but concludes to persevere, 
walks bravely up to me and asks if I am going with the steamer. 
I recover my temper suddenly and respond ' ' Yes," with a smile, 
and ask, in my turn abruptly, " Are you the Captain ? " He is. 
Apparently satisfied with his inquiries, he returns to his friends. 
Having seen them off, he finds time to chat with me a few 
moments, and then, as we are ready to start, he departs for the 
bridge. 

I have engaged to buy a chair at a fixed price to be delivered 
on board, and am anxiously awaiting it. Finally, as I am in 
despair, it arrives, but the Chinaman demands two rupees more. 
I have already agreed to pay them a good price, having omitted 
the formality of beating them down, so I decline to be victim- 
ized any further. The man thereupon picks up the chair and 
walks off with it ; looks back at me from the gangway expect- 
antly, but I have forgotten his existence by this time, so he 
descends to his boat and rows off quite a distance, looking back 

146 



THE SEAT OF HONOR. 147 

at me all the while ; but as I make no sign, presently he returns 
to the ship. I see him approaching - , and turn away ; he 
struggles up the gangway again, and I immediately cross over to 
the other side of the vessel. He follows and puts the chair 
down, and otherwise expresses his willingness to accept the 
original terms. I hand over the money and he departs. 

From China to Calcutta I have been told that rank and dress 
are the prevailing features of a voyage from Bombay to Suez ; 
that the places next to the Captain at table are given to the 
people of the highest rank, and that much quarreling and bit- 
terness are the results. As I am a plain American citizen, with- 
out rank, who travels with as small a wardrobe as neatness and 
comfort will permit, and decline to add to the fatigues of travel, 
any unnecessary unpacking and packing of trunks or labor of 
dressing, with my democratic ways and comfortable blue flan- 
nel dress, I am expecting to be relegated to the foot of the table. 
I come down to dinner perfectly resigned to this state of affairs, 
and commencing about the middle go all the way down on one 
side of the table and up the other, and am beginning to .think 
that I am to have no seat at all, when the waiter points out my 
card at the Captain's left. I take my seat and smile to myself. 
I think if I am ever going to be relegated to the foot of the 
table it is high time I began. The idea of my having the best 
stateroom all to myself and the seat of honor at table, all the 
way around the world, is too perfectly absurd. It is high time 
I took a back seat. I had made up my mind I should this trip. 
Never mind ; when I cross the Atlantic I am sure to be 
snubbed. 

January 19th. — I have taken a fancy to the handsome 
Frenchwoman. I think I shall find her most agreeable socially, 
and true enough, when, after exchanging a few smiles, we do 
speak, I find she is a kindred spirit. She, too, would like to 
travel alone and fears nothing ; her great black eyes flash and 
sparkle at the bare idea. She takes me up and flaunts me and 
my travels in her venerable parent's face. She is a widow 
over thirty, has a son thirteen years of age, and looks like an 
Italian madonna, with her great dark eyes and strong, beauti- 
ful face. Her father is thoroughly imbued with the most con- 
servative ideas in reference to women, and keeps her very close, 
old as she is. 



148 PICTURESQUE INDIA. 

Red Sea, January 22d. — We arrived at Aden late last night 
and left early this morning. I woke up in time to hear the 
continuous "Yes, sir," of the diving boys, a remark which 
comprises their entire acquaintance with the English language, 
and which signifies their earnest desire to dive for coins ; and to 
take Aden in at one comprehensive glance as it passed my port 
while we were swinging around preparatory to our departure. 
I have not seen anything of that desperately hot weather they 
have been promising me, but then hopes have been held out to 
me of extreme heat and extreme cold all the way around the 
world that have never been realized. I am put off in each case 
with the unsatisfactory explanation that this is a very unusual 
season. I am very much taken up at present with the woes of 
the French lady, whose father will not permit her to speak to 
any one on board. I look on at this tyranny and thank my 
stars that I am an American. 

Although I am on board an English steamer many of the 
customs are Indian, which causes me to reflect that I have 
enjoyed India very much. India has gratified my taste for the 
picturesque, the romantic, the historic ; and curiously so, for 
all this lies in its people and its architecture. Nothing could be 
more barren than the country itself ; but somehow its barren 
plains and fortress-crowned sandhills and crumbling ruins are 
all picturesque. The temples and palaces fill one with an 
impression of a past grandeur and glory, with their great 
chambers of white marble and precious stones. The fairy tales 
of one's childhood assume a new significance in India. One 
feels transported back to the days of Bluebeard amongst these 
natives of ponderous headgear. Little English children in 
India recognize their household servants in their picture-book 
representations of the retainers of the " Marquis of Carabas." 

We have a Parsee passenger on board. His family came to 
see him off at Bombay, a dozen or more of dark skinned women, 
and they looked as if they had just stepped out of a fairy tale, 
in their flowing drapery of fine white silk crepe, with an 
embroidered border of color, and their white silk or satin shoes, 
as if dressed for the stage or a ballroom, worn apparently daily, 
and now out to the ship in a small boat. 

What amuses me a good deal is the way people drink here. 
Whisky and water is taken by ladies daily, and whisky and 



A CHAPTER OF WOE. 149 

soda or water are taken by gentlemen more times a day than I 
should like to say. These drinks are called "pegs," under the 
rooted conviction that each one represents another peg in the 
coffin of the drinker. 

Shephard's Hotel, Cairo, Egypt, January 28th. — And now 
I must write a chapter of woe. As we approached Suez some of 
the people on hoard thought it necessary to warn me of the 
dangerous country I was coming to. My usual trepidation at 
arriving at a strange country was not at all soothed by the 
dreadful tales that were told me of people whose hands had been 
cut off between the steamer and the hotel for the sake of their 
rings, and other people who had fallen victims to the murderous 
wrath of some slighted native. There were but three of us 
going to the hotel, myself and the French lady and her father. 
Judging from what I had seen of the latter on board, and his 
vile temper, I should be far safer going ashore alone than with 
them, and I hacLmade up my mind to do so, but it turned out we 
were all to go ashore in the boat that took the through passengers 
to Alexandria and to be taken on the train with them to the hotel. 

Having passed the place where the children of Israel once 
crossed the Red Sea and come to anchor, we got off in a small 
steam launch. It was quite dark by the time we got ashore. 
The manager of the launch explained to us what we were to do 
on landing. I helped the French lady to understand, though 
she spoke pretty good English. Arrived on shore the man 
pointed out to me the direction we were to go. Monsieur, the 
father, started off wildly in the opposite direction, asking loudly 
and impersonally where to go. As he passed near me, asking, I 
said, "This way, monsieur." He pushed me roughly aside and 
asked me to mind my own business in choice French. I did so ; 
going where the lights were and recognizing my own baggage 
as it came up and seeing it put on board the train. Madame 
followed me after a little, and Monsieur ultimately came up and 
harangued and bullied and badgered the officials out of all 
patience. I had taken the trouble that very day to reopen my 
already packed trunk and show this man some things he desired 
to see, at his own and his daughter's especial request. His 
name is Jules Radu ; he is seventy-five, white haired and the 
author of a French encyclopedia. On board the ship I was 
the best friend they had. Such is life ! 



150 ARAB BAGGAGE SMASHERS. 

The dragoman of the hotel took charge of us. Having got 
our baggage in a car by itself, we were put in another car, Mon- 
sieur scolding and fuming and retarding the business of getting 
aboard and off, every step of the way. Twenty minutes brings 
us to the depot opposite the hotel, and we get out and go in 
search of our baggage, which is found after a half a dozen cars 
have been laboriously unlocked. A scuffle then takes place be- 
tween two natives as to the possession of one of my trunks, in 
the course of which my trunk is thrown violently from the top 
of the tallest man's head, happily on no one's toes. Another 
man picks it up, and we leave the two clawing and gouging 
each other savagely. 

A few steps bring us to the hotel, where another commotion 
ensues. The men must be feed ; in the dark they are hopelessly 
mixed. I start to say a word aside to Madame to try to prevent 
my porters being feed by them, and am taken roughly by the 
arm by her enraged father and thrown aside and told again to 
mind my own business. The dragoman, as th*ed of waiting for 
them as I, takes me on upstairs to the office. I have only just 
asked for a room when Monsieur comes raging upstairs, walks 
up to the table, and striking it with his fist says in French, 
"Give me two rooms." Neither the clerk nor the dragoman 
understands. He then demands the master. I have been 
told to mind my own business and he has left his daughter 
downstairs, afraid to stir until he commands. I stand the 
noise a few moments, and then desiring a room myself, and 
having no chance until he is settled, I venture very quietly to 
say to him, "The master is at dinner," and to them, "He 
wants two rooms, for himself and daughter." The poor 
old lunatic is obliged to permit me to explain to him and to 
show him even where to write his name. He does as I tell him 
but ignores me otherwise. They take him to his room, and I 
sign my name and am shown to mine. I go down to supper, 
nervous and tired. I am just enjoying my rice and curry when 
Madame enters, tall, dark and melancholy. She slips a bit of 
paper under my hand, and whispers good-bye. A clasp of her 
hand and a pathetic look from her dark eyes, and she is gone. 
Something in that beautiful tragic face of hers brings a lump in 
my throat and tears in my eyes. I can eat no more. I try. I 
dare not look at the note ; I should cry sure. No use, I can't 



TEARS, AT LAST. 151 

eat. I get up and flee to my room, lock the door, and read the 
note and weep. The tears that I would not shed at leaving New 
York, and again at leaving America, came now with a rush. 
If anybody had asked me what I was crying about, I should 
have said, "G-g-g-give it up, ask me an e-e-easier one." I 
wept on, however, perfectly regardless of rhyme or reason. 
The note said : ' ' Don't come with us ; my father will be so 
rude " (and, by the bye, they were going my way, not I theirs); 
and expressed grief for the same ; hoped I would meet better 
treatment, et cetera and good-bye. I cried it out ; while I was 
about it I shed all my last year's tears ; went to bed and arose 
with a severe headache in consequence ; had my breakfast ; met 
Madame on the stairs ; she kissed me twice and said good-bye. 
My tears rose again, but I laughed defiantly and said I was going 
to Cairo, too ; it . was my route, and I could not change my 
plans to suit her father's tempers. A last embrace and kiss and 
she was gone. 

I followed a little later with my dragoman who had deserted 
them for me, and sacrificed his brother to their interests ; got 
my Cook's coupon changed after some little difficulty occas- 
ioned by the absence of a customary seal ; got my baggage 
weighed and paid for, and secured a carriage for myself alone, 
encountering Madame and Monsieur several times, but ignor- 
ing them. The last I saw of them they were surrounded by a 
horde of fee hunters. I heard Monsieur scolding about his 
fees and calling for the police. I had my carriage to myself 
for half the distance. The other half I was obliged to share it 
with three Frenchmen and an Englishman. I gave them per- 
mission to smoke and looked my desire to be let alone. They 
accepted tbC first and respected the latter, and so we proceeded 
to Cairo. The road was across the plains. A strong wind rat- 
tled the windows of the car. Looking out, I could see the 
steamers in the canal, but I could see no water ; the steamers 
were apparently plowing their way across the sandhills. 
Further on, the canal stretched like a strip of blue ribbon across 
the waste of yellow sand, and then it widened into a bay, and 
then we turned inland and lost it from sight. 

Finally we reached a part of the country that was green. On 
the desert the villages looked like terraces of sand. In the dis- 
tance I saw villages walled together like one house, with minarets 



152 THE PYRAMIDS. 

and towers rising from within. , At Zag-a-Zig I saw signs 
of civilization — a woman hanging clothes upon the roof. I 
reached Cairo at four ; was met by an English hotel dragoman 
at the depot, received politely at the hotel, and am waited on at 
table by a dark-haired Lord Dundreary. The men here wear 
baggy trousers and the Turkish fez, and the women cover their 
faces with black, except the eyes. 

I go to the Pyramids to-morrow morning, and then I flit to 
Alexandria to catch a steamer which connects at Port Said with 
a Cook party, with whom I am to go to Jerusalem from Jaffa, 
and back. I then go on my way alone again to Constantinople, 
Athens, Naples. The party contains Americans, some being 
ladies, and has room for just one more. I am always hurry- 
ing forward for some advantage, an extra fine steamer, or 
pleasant companions. I shall be glad to get to Italy, where I 
shall hurry no more. Trains go every day there instead of 
every two weeks. 

January 29th. — I've done the Pyramids. Having been 
warned most particularly not on any account to go to the 
Pyramids alone, of course that was the very thing I did. 
Cook's here told me it was perfectly safe and supplied me with 
carriage and dragoman. At seven this morning we started out, 
and getting out of the city drove for miles along an avenue of 
trees and camels and donkeys. Judging from appearances the 
chief products of Egypt are camels and donkeys. The difference 
between the size of a donkey's load and a camel's is entirely 
disproportionate to the difference between the size of the 
animals. I sometimes see two large men riding one very small 
donkey, the donkey being hardly distinguishable under these 
circumstances. There is work out here for Mr. Bergh. The 
poor little donkeys are often horribly chafed by excessively 
tight back straps. 

At last, after a very cold drive, I reach the Pyramids. They 
can hardly be called pretty, but they are curious. I decline to 
climb up them. I walk all around them and back to the ancient 
temples and the Sphinx. The Sphinx interests me most, as she 
lies there half buried in the sand at the edge of this vast desert 
of Sahara, silent but sleepless, apparently keeping watch over 
this waste of sand ; an emblem of eternal vigilance. The 
temples are covered to the top with sand, and we look down 



A POLITE ARAB. 153 

into their excavated interiors. I take a last fascinated look at 
the Sphinx. She is ugly and not half as big as I thought, but 
her expression of silent alertness fascinates one. She looks as 
if she held the secrets of the world within her stony brain, but 
would not reveal. She is typical of power and of patience, of 
restrained force and everlasting wakefulness. We return along 
the avenue of camels and donkeys, along the banks of the Nile, 
over the bridge that crosses that river, and back to the hotel. I 
am told that the soil is very rich ; that when the Nile over- 
flows its banks it covers these green plains with water up to the 
Pyramids, and that four crops a year are produced from this 
land. It's well to get a little useful information now and then. 

I was told that this was a dreadful country for beggars. I 
find them no worse than in India or in Ceylon, where they will 
run after your carriage for a mile or so. I've had no trouble 
here from them. I like this hotel. Lord Dundreary waits on 
me at table, and opposite me sit two women with immense 
diamonds in their ears. No gold is visible. The diamonds are 
as large as a silver ten cent piece. I saw one larger pair on an 
ugly Javanese woman at a hotel in the interior of Java. 

The hotel dragoman escorts me to the depot, procures my 
ticket for me, and leaves me in the hands of an Arab boy, who 
takes charge of my baggage. Presently a larger Arab boy 
comes along and makes every pretense of being of inestimable 
service to me, following the boy who carries my baggage and 
repeating all my orders, although the boy understands English 
perfectly well ; approves of my fee to him and desires one for 
himself. I have been annoyed at his interference and I have 
no more small change. I mention the latter fact. He tells me 
it is of no consequence, is much obliged to me all the same, 
wishes me a pleasant voyage and bids me good-bye. 

The women in Egypt look very curious with their faces 
covered with black. The two parts of the covering, upper and 
lower, are kept in place by a thick piece of bamboo on the nose. 
I don't see how they recognize each other. I saw several at the 
depot with white silk on their faces and gorgeous white or 
colored silks and embroidered slippers beneath the long black 
silk hood and cloak that covered them from head to foot. 

I find myself well treated at hotels holding Cook's coupons ; 
and Cook's agents at Cairo were courteous and obliging. Their 



154 A POLYGLOT SHIP. 

dragomans, too, are very useful. Indeed, Messrs. Cook & Son 
make traveling easy. 

Port Said, Arabia, Austrian Lloyd Steamship, January 
81st. — I reached Alexandria safely ; was received at the depot 
by Cook's dragoman at ten P. M. and taken to the hotel ; 
found a note from my banker to the effect that he would wait 
upon me in the morning, which he did, so I was enabled to 
arrange my financial affairs to my satisfaction at nine A. M. , 
and was ready to leave Alexandria at ten, again under the 
charge of Cook's man, and in company with an Australian 
and his sister, also bound for Jerusalem. At Alexandria 
there is an export Custom House, but my baggage passed 
through without a glance even. I sit next the Captain as 
usual. 

The management of this ship is polyglot — Captain, Aus- 
trian ; steward, Italian ; garcon, French ; crew, anything 
you like inclusive of Arabs ; passengers likewise. Dinner, 
Austrian bread, Italian wine, French soup, Egyptian fruit. 
The steward speaks Italian to me and I respond in French. He 
is oppressively polite, fancies I have a headache, and worries 
me with gesticulative sympathy. 

Mediterranean Sea, Quarantined off Jaffa, February 
1st. — This trip marks an era in my travels. First experience 
in crowded cabins; traveling in a party and quarantine. We 
are obliged to remain on board twenty-four hours, and are 
charged five dollars apiece for the privilege. My stateroom is 
all bad air and seasick women. One very fat Italian woman 
was brought on board at Port Said by her friends, already sea- 
sick in anticipation, and is now nearly crazy with fright as 
much as seasickness. The seven Cook's tourists who came on 
board at Port Said, whose party I join here, are also seasick, 
much to my surprise. We lie motionless upon a sea of glass, 
with not a ripple to disturb our quiet. The engines are still, 
and the hush of Sunday reigns over all, broken only by the 
cracked voices of some missionaries who have been holding 
service and singing hymns. 

Being obliged to remain on board, we lie about the deck and 
look at the higgledy piggledy town of Jaffa, straggling up from 
the sea, with some treacherous-looking rocks peeping up through 
the water midway between us and the shore. A novelty in the 



WATERSPOUTS. 155 

•way of a waterspout hardly excited our interest, so languid and 
sick of the ship are we. 

These waterspouts are strange affairs. Two whirling peaks 
of water ; one springing upward from a placid, sunlit sea, the 
other reaching downward from a blue sky, stretch toward each 
other until they meet, and, joining forces, form a whirling pil- 
lar that travels over the water for a while, increasing and dim- 
inishing in size, until it dwindles to a thread in the center and 
breaks, leaving two napping liquid points to be drawn back to 
sea and sky. Sometimes the column of water will break and 
form again, the sky spout reaching down and drawing up" the 
sea. We saw several waterspouts in active operation at one 
time. 

I find the seven Americans very pleasant, and they have 
taken me to their hearts. They are all jolly but seasick. They 
decline to be very much surprised at my exploits in the way of 
traveling, merely remarking "That's just like an American." 
They take a national pride in me, however. I find we shall be 
companions for some time, for our routes are the same as far as 
Athens. 

Mr. Mayfield, most stately, most placid, most amiable of men, 
heads the party, and I find congenial companions in his lady- 
like and agreeable wife and daughter. Kansas people they are, 
and very good folks indeed. A pair of cowboys from the Wild 
West, father and son, are jolly and audacious and full of good 
natured braggadocio, they make fine antagonists for me at chess 
and cards or argument, while a young man from Vermont 
lends youth and good nature to the party. 

We see from where we lie at anchor Mount Ararat, and are 
reminded that these are the waters where Jonah met his adven- 
ture with the whale. The whale had no business in these 
waters anyway it would seem, as we are told there are none 
here now. Our tourists are not surprised at the whale being 
sick — they are. Andromeda's difficulties with the sea monsters 
occurred in this neighborhood. We are now in a region full of 
historical interest. 



THE HOLY LAND. 

Mediterranean Hotel, Zion's Hill, Jerusalem. — Well, I 
am in the Holy Land, and it has need to be holy, for a dirtier 
place I never saw. Cook's agent came aboard early Monday 
morning, took us ashore, and marched us up through the streets 
of Jaffa to a carriage. The streets of Jaffa are narrow and are 
composed of four equal parts of donkey, camel, native and 
mud, through which we had to walk two or three blocks to the 
carriages, which carriages carried us through more mud and 
camel, donkey and native, to the hotel. There we breakfasted 
and hastily overhauled trunks, and then drove out to see the 
sights of Jaffa; namely, house of "Simon the Tanner," an 
orphan school, orange groves which were all orange and very 
little tree, and unlimited camels, donkeys, natives and mud. 
Woe is me ! my troubles have begun. I'm now to "be put 
through the regulation sights, orphan schools and churches. 
We left Jaffa the same day at two P. M. in "three fine landaus, 
our party of eight being augmented by three Scotchmen, two 
of whom are ministers. They have a guide to themselves, and 
are to continue on to Damascus. 

Having got out of the dirty city, we drove along a good road 
across the plains, seeing some sights on the way, climbing an 
ancient tower, and arriving at Ramleh at five P. M. , where we 
were surprised to find a good, clean and new hotel, at which 
we stopped for the night. We walked a little in the village, 
until we were discouraged by the dirt and the lepers. Off again 
in the morning by half -past seven, and arrived at Jerusalem, 
after a long ride, some fun, and a good many hills, at four 
P.M. 

February 6th. — The first morning we were here we went to 
the Holy Sepulchre, which contains separate sections for vari- 
ous nations. Turks guard the door to keep Christians from 
fighting. Various Christian sects sometimes engage in a free 
fight over the tomb of Jesus, resulting in great loss of life. We 
spend the morning promenading around from altar to tomb 
with lighted tapers. We find here the tomb of Adam, over 
which Mark Twain wept ; also that of St. George of Dragon 

156 



TEMPLE OP SOLOMON. > 157 

fame and a lot of other tombs too numerous to mention. The 
church is very large, and the altars handsome and rich in jew- 
eled pictures — pictures in which only the hands and faces of 
the portrait are visible, the rest being a mass of immense 
diamonds, rubies, emeralds, sapphires and pearls. In the after- 
noon we go to a convent and follow the road where Jesus 
walked with his cross on his back to Calvary. We are called 
upon to note the places where he stopped and rested the cross, 
the mark being left in the stone. 

The next morning we go to the Mosque of Omar and Solo- 
mon's Temple, where we are escorted around by an old Turk, 
the master of the harem, who is uncomfortably attentive to 
me, I almost feel destined to become an inmate of that harem, 
as my friends have prophesied for me. We, as many of us as 
have them, have brought our slippers, and I am the "belle of 
the ball " in my beaded and gold-heeled Java slippers, as I step 
into the Mosque. This is really worth seeing. An immense 
dome, all of mosaic in the rich, subdued tints we see in Turkish 
rugs. Lovely effects are seen in windows' — beautiful pale tints 
shining through mother-of-pearl lattice work — all lovely, gorge- 
ous, splendid. It all covers and surrounds an immense rock, 
the rock on which that inhuman parent, Abraham, sacrificed, 
or was about to sacrifice, his son at the Lord's command. 
Underneath this rock are altars, and they tell you the rock is 
suspended in the air, unsupported from beneath. 

The Temple of Solomon is close at hand ; it contains more 
altars and several pillars placed very near to each other, be- 
tween which pillars it is supposed only the good can pass. 
Quite large cavities have been worn by people squeezing 
through. Beneath the church is supposed to have been Solo- 
mon's stable. Here we find lots of little heaps of stones piled 
by people who wish to get the Lord to remove illness and mis- 
fortune from their families. The lattices of the windows above 
are full of bits of yarn, tied there for the same purpose. 
We go to a convent in the afternoon, in the chapel of which we 
find the same picture I saw in smaller form in the Mission 
church at Santa Barbara, California — a picture representing the 
day of judgment, the good people going off on one side with 
harps and olive branches, and the sinners being hastened on into 
the flames and the lake of fire at the point of toasting forks, 



158 BETHLEHEM. 

applied by the gleeful devils ; snakes, and dragons ad lib. ; a 
sweet picture to contemplate. 

To all these places we had gone on foot, picking our way 
through the dirty streets and people, over a rough and uneven 
pavement of jagged stones, thickly overlaid with filth ; not ex- 
actly the golden streets we had heard of. One could not see 
much in this way, for one was far too busy watching one's foot- 
steps and dodging donkeys with wide reaching paniers filled 
with dirt, to see anything else. 

Our next trip is to Bethlehem. I have looked forward to this 
with many pleasant anticipations. We can go as we choose, in 
a carriage or on horseback. I choose a horse. Cook's agent, 
Mr. Clark, promises an easy one. I congratulate myself when 
I find that the carriages are springless, not the easy landaus we 
came in from Jaffa, and that my horse is easily managed and a 
pacer. We have a lovely ride to Bethlehem, seeing various 
tombs and wells and getting a glimpse of the Dead Sea on the 
way. The coach rushes through the narrow streets of Bethle- 
hem at a rattling pace, scattering women and children, donkeys 
and camels, until we reach the Church of the Nativity. Here 
we see a lot more tombs and altars, and pictures of the crucifix- 
ion, the tombs of the parents of Mary, the room where Jesus 
was born, the spot where his cradle rested, and the room occu- 
pied by St. Jerome. Some of these people appear to have tombs 
in several parts of Judea, a city tomb and a country tomb, 
and a tomb at a fashionable seaside resort. Indeed, their 
saintly remains are scattered about in the most promiscuous 
manner. 

We start for Jerusalem again, and here my woes begin. My 
horse, a delightful pacer if he will, is in a hurry and he posi- 
tively declines to pace ; he will do nothing but trot or gallop in 
a hard, jolting fashion that threatens to reduce me to a jelly. I 
• expostulate with him in vain. My saddle has got twisted, and 
the gentlemen with me assure me that it is all right, although I 
am hanging on the side of the horse, and of course resting too 
heavily on the stirrup and getting it more twisted. I reach the 
hotel bruised and lame. On the principle of ' ' hair of the dog 
cures the bite," I start out on the following morning, so lame 
and sore that every movement is painful, to go donkey-riding 
outside the city walls. My donkey is the fastest of the lot, 



TRAVELING IN A PARTY. 159 

and my donkey boy ambitious, so I lead the cavalcade of 
eight, and am in a fair way to get cured of my lameness 
before our tour around the city of Jerusalem is finished. Our 
party is kept amused by the cowboy's ineffectual efforts to in- 
spire his lazy donkey with sufficient ambition to pass all the 
others. 

We are called upon to dismount from time to time to see the 
tomb of the Virgin, or to climb a tower to get a view of the 
Dead Sea and a glimpse of Jordan, way beyond. There are 
lots of beggars and lepers about, but they do not trouble one so 
much as I have heard. It is best not to give them anything, 
unless you want a whole tribe at your heels. Just entering a 
gateway, I am besieged by three or four little girls. Little girls 
always fetch me; I've got a silver coin in my pocket, and it is 
soon transferred to the little dirty supplicating hands. On my 
return from the tombs within I am met at the gate by the 
mother of the children and presented with a bunch of apple 
blossoms as a token of gratitude. 

And now for a few remarks on the subject of traveling in a 
party. I've been with these people ten days, and find them 
most agreeable people — no unpleasant or quarrelsome ones in 
the party. We are sociable and have jolly times together. I 
have been told by English people everywhere that Americans 
abroad are rather noisy, and have also heard that Cook's tour- 
ists come to places and monopolize everything, both of which 
statements are entirely correct. We do arrive at places and 
take possession of them. Indeed, in Palestine we are frequently 
the sole patrons of the hotel. If there are other guests, they 
are too hopelessly in the minority to enter a protest. Other 
people sit staid and silent over their meals ; we chatter and 
laugh from one end of the table to the other. For those travel- 
ing in a crowd, the agent sends to the hotel in advance to en- 
gage as many rooms as are required, and when we arrive we 
are given slips of paper with our names and room numbers on 
them. I get a room that is an exaggerated refrigerator of 
stone, with a tiny square window high above my head. I rebel, 
but to no purpose. We have filled the hotel, and the rooms are 
all allotted. I am afraid this agent is not sufficiently impressed 
with my necessities. If I had ordered my horse myself I should 
have had a better one, I know, but leaving it to him I got a 



160 THE LAND OF MILK AND HONEY. 

wretched one. The agent is gentlemanly and suave, and 
promises finely to the person, but apparently he simply orders 
a horse for one or a room for one, without an effort to secure 
the best to be had. 

Traveling hi a party one is obliged to go over much that is 
stupid and tiresome and wait somewhat on the movements of 
the others. I have never in all my travels been so badly cared for 
as here, but that is probably because accommodations are worse 
here than in any other country. There are many advantages 
in being under Cook's direct care, but I fancy I can do better 
for myself in the matter of securing rooms and berths. Their 
tickets and dragomans are a great convenience, but I prefer to 
secure my own rooms, staterooms and horses personally. 

This is the land that flowed with milk and honey. As a mat- 
ter of fact it flows now chiefly with stones. The milk is a myth, 
or rather is represented only by that of goats, but after much 
demand the honey has been produced. The hills are all rock, 
the fields are covered with stone, and divided by wall after wall 
of the same material. I never saw so many stones in all my 
life — the chief production of the soil is stone. I have not heard 
the "voice of the turtle," but I have heard the voice of the 
donkey. A combination of donkey bray and ' ' Home, Sweet 
Home," on the piano, with variations, is particularly entertain- 
ing to the listener. The camels weej) when too heavily loaded, 
and their reputation for gentleness and meekness is a fiction. 
They are vicious, and they bite and kick with specially disas- 
trous effect. 

Take it all together, the Holy Land is the barest, the flattest, 
the dirtiest of all the countries I have seen. China is the only 
country that could possibly compare with it. Many of the streets 
here are covered over, being literally narrow stone tunnels, dark 
and crowded and dirty. Every one is obliged to carry a lantern 
when out after dark. A market is just opposite the hotel ; 
principal article of commerce, cauliflower. Frequent squabbles 
over purchases occur. It is delightful and warm out of doors 
during the day, but always cold in the house. I have six colds 
now and am catching another. Wear my ulster night and day, 
likewise my rug and shawl. "Want to go home. Lovely 
oranges here ; am living principally upon oranges. Dogs, bells 
and donkeys divide the honors when it comes to noise. 



JAFFA. 161 

The women here wear a white muslin envelope over their 
other clothes, covering- head and all ; the face is covered with a 
flowered gauze, through which you cannot distinguish the fea- 
tures. There are all kinds of people here — many Russians and 
Americans. In the chapel of a convent erected by the Princess 
d'Auvergne we saw the Lord's Prayer printed on the walls in 
thirty-two different languages. 

As any one who knows me might guess, the ex-cowboy is my 
chosen companion and familiar spirit. He is an invalid, owns 
a cattle ranch near Cheyenne, and has with him his son, aged 
twenty -four, whom I call "Jack Hamlin." But all the party 
are pleasant, jolly people, and we get on nicely together. The 
American Consul and his wife reside in the hotel and have been 
very friendly. 

Jaffa, Palestine, February 9th. — Left Jerusalem yesterday 
morning and arrived here at 5:15 P. M. Tried to have a chill 
and a sunstroke together yesterday ; fair success with both. All 
right again this morning. Doctored and sympathized with by 
the combined seven. Saw lots of camels, twenty-three in a row, 
yesterday, and a ferocious Bedouin, one of those who attack 
and rob the lonely traveler. Also an infinitesimal child lead- 
ing an immense camel. His camelship accommodated his steps 
to the infant's. Returning over the same road we went, we 
find the ground covered with scarlet flowers, very pretty to see. 
Saw a turtle who refused to "lift up his voice" and several 
hundred lizards, of all sizes, in one tree. Lizards sit on stones 
and think as we go by. Party all satisfied with the visit to the 
Holy Land. Were promised bad weather and had remarkably 
fine weather. Sail to-morrow for Beirut. 

Off Beirut, Arabia, S. S. Hungaria, February 10th. — 
Leaving Jaffa yesterday, we passed by a departing regiment of 
Turkish soldiers, followed by a crowd of weeping men, women 
and children. Soldiers taken off in small boats to steamer. 
Water front thronged with despairing families waving last fare- 
wells. Soldiers hopelessly seasick before reaching the steamer ; 
nothing like seasickness for assuaging sentimental woes. Got 
aboard and took sole possession of a stateroom for six. Shall 
suffer untold agonies daily in dread of more lady passengers 
arriving at the various ports we stop at to dispute possession 
with me. Jaffa was a lovely place for oranges ; twenty cents 



162 BEIRUT. 

a hundred. We laid in a stock ; every stateroom full of 
oranges. 

Sailed from Jaffa at 5 P. M. last night ; arrived at Beirut at 
seven this morning. Cook's boatmen came aboard and took us 
ashore. Walked and drove all over the place. Beirut is a 
great commercial center. More European in character and far 
cleaner than Jaffa. Women, as in Jaffa and Jerusalem, wear 
a white muslin sheet for drapery and flower figured gauze over 
their faces. All through this country immense cactuses grow, 
great leaves as big as a stove lid and from one to two inches 
thick, covered with long, sharp thorns. Camels and goats eat 
them by the roadside, thorns and all. Have seen them do it. 
They apparently consider them a delicacy. 

iEGEAN Sea or Archipelago, off Island of Soios, February 
14th. — Our next stop after Beirut was Cyprus, and then, after a 
day at sea, at Rhodes. To-day we stopped at Scios, but we did 
not go ashore at any of these places for several reasons. 
Firstly, they would not let us because of ; secondly, i. e. , it was 
too stormy and rough to land ; thirdly, it was pouring rain ; 
fourthly, "mal de mer" had effectually quenched all active 
interest in sightseeing ; and, fifthly, there was nothing to see 
of any consequence, so they said. So we looked longingly 
across the intervening waters at the shore, and fought seasick- 
ness, and watched the adventures of the small boats that 
endeavored to come out to us. This is the seasickest party I 
ever saw in my life. They get seasick on the smallest possible 
provocation. They are seasick when we lie at anchor, with 
machinery stopped, sea as smooth as glass and the ship motion- 
less as the floor nearly ; and they are seasick while we sail 
through the Archipelago with islands on both sides and the 
water as free from billows as the Hudson River. We have had 
quite a storm for two nights, and it has been pretty rough, but 
not enough to make me feel a qualm at all events. I am 
the only one of the party who comes to the table with any 
degree of certainty as to the results. 

Upon deck, when I am just rounding off one of my most 
graceful remarks, my companion suddenly rises and flees with 
more haste than grace, and no cei'emony at all, to the stern. 
Just as I am recovering from convulsions of laughter at his 
*vasty departure, he returns, saying ' ' The phosphorescence on 



SMYRNA. 163 

the water is exceedingly fine to-night." Looking at it has 
apparently benefited him greatly. 

We have on board as passengers four Arab sheiks, the sons 
of the principal sheik of Arabia (who is dead, I believe), going to 
Constantinople with presents of horses to the Sultan. They 
look at me with a great deal of curiosity. They cannot com- 
prehend my traveling alone in safety. There are a number of 
pretty Turkish women on board ; they speak a little French or 
German, so we manage to exchange civilities through the 
saloon windows. They are second class or deck passengers, and 
their condition through this stormy weather, ranged alongside 
the saloon deck, only half sheltered by canvas, has been 
pitiable. This is the noisiest, ramshackliest old boat you ever 
saw, and the weather is getting colder as we travel northward. 

In the Harbor of Smyrna, February 15th. — Had time to 
go ashore for half an hour this morning, but concluded not to 
do so. The place looked too European to interest me. Could 
see all I wanted to see from the cabin window — about as much 
as I could see in half an hour on shore in the rain. European 
built houses, green blinds, three hotels, and a dance hall ; half 
a dozen street cars and cabs ; European pedestrians carrying 
umbrellas, with a plentiful sprinkling of church steeples, and 
all at the foot of a ruined, fortress-crowned hill. Those who 
went ashore report dirtier streets than Jerusalem, interesting 
bazaars, and an officer bristling with weapons and more 
picturesque and terrifying than a cowboy, who demanded pass- 
ports. Everybody gave this gentleman plenty of room to pass. 



CONSTANTINOPLE. 

. Hotel D'Angleterre, Constantinople, February 17th. — 
There is no mistake about the usefulness of "Cook" when it 
comes to em- and de-barking. We are navigated past passport 
and custom officers with a majestic wave of the hand. The 
name of "Cook" has an "open sesame" effect. We are not 
badgered by porters and boatmen. We have a special boat with 
boatmen in red and blue shirts with " Cook's Boatmen " in bold 
letters on the breast. Our steamer brought a bundle of new 
shirts, which were distributed the moment we left the ship, and 
were on the men in no time, and we departed in a glory of 
bright red shirt. 

We reached here by sailing up the .^Egean Sea, stopping at 
Myrtilene and at Dardanelles, and seeing the place where 
Leander swam the Hellespont ; sailing through the Hellespont 
up the Sea of Marmora and into the Golden Horn to 
Constantinople. 

On the voyage I received much attention from the four Arab 
sheiks. They touched their foreheads to me whenever I ap- 
peared. They invited me to come and stay in Arabia two or 
three years, and said they would see that I had a pleasant time. 
Our conversations were through the medium of an American 
gentleman who has lived at Beirut a number of years and 
understands Arabic. Before we left the steamer he said he was 
beginning to feel the delicacy of his position. I told them, 
through him, that I would come and bring my family in a few 
years. They wrote their signatures for me in Arabic, and I 
wrote mine for them. They were very fearful that I should 
take cold without anything on my head ; thought I did not 
dress warmly enough. They themselves were muffled up to 
the eyes with a broad striped cloth tied on the head with a piece 
of rope. Our interpreter, Mr. Hallek, was a most agreeable 
gentleman. We found we possessed a mutual admiration for 
Robert G. Ingersoll, whom he knows and whose ideas, character 
and family he admires immensely. 

Constantinople is a pretty city, but it is a city of dogs and 
fires and mosques, and mud without limit. The hotel is com- 

164 



WHIRLING DERVISHES. 165 

fortable. I've a cunning little room, with an easy chair and a 
marble topped stove in it. Just imagine a white crockery stove 
with a marble top ! It is cold here, bu^ not dreadfully so. No 
snow. We started out at 1 P. M. with a guide. 

First we went to see the whirling dervishes. We walk 
through the rough, stony and muddy streets to a round building, 
which we enter and stand in a compartment divided from an 
arena by a low railing. The dervishes are just coming in. They 
spend a good while kneeling and bowing and touching their 
foreheads to the polished floor and responding to a chant that is 
sung by an unseen man, always with their faces toward Mecca. 
Here, as in Jerusalem, there is always a fluted alcove facing 
Mecca in the temples. After we are thoroughly tired of this a 
sort of march is played, and they march around the circular 
arena twice in single file, stopping and bowing on reaching the 
front of the alcove, first to the one in front of them and then 
stepping forward and turning around to the one behind. After 
this they take off the long outer cloak they wear and drop their 
long skirts, which had been fastened up. This skirt is full and 
plaited evenly around at the waist. A broad sash heads it and 
a short jacket comes down to meet the sash. They have bare 
feet and a felt hat that resembles a yellow flower pot in shape 
and color. Soon they proceed to whirl. They have a step 
which is the waltz reduced to first principles. They whirl 
smoothly, calmly, regularly, rapidly, their skirts standing out 
evenly till they look like so many revolving convex cart wheels 
with exaggerated hubs, or absurdly large teetotums. After 
some ten or fifteen minutes of this the rapidity decreases, and 
presently they stop as calm, as unruffled, as free from giddiness, 
to all appearances, as if whirling was the simplest possible mo- 
tion. While whirling they hold their arms even with the head, 
one hand bent at the wrist and turning out from the head and the 
other turning in towards it. The swiftest whirler was a boy of 
about twelve years. 

From the dervishes we went to the fire tower. Climbing 
this, we look out on the country we are in, and very pretty 
it is. On one side lies the Golden Horn, crossed by two bridges. 
Here to the left is the Bosphorus, and away beyond stretches the 
Sea of Marmora, with Princess Island in the foreground. Just 
across the Bosphorus lies Scutari, and scattered all about are 



166 MOSQUE OP ST. SOPHIA* 

domes and minarets of mosques. It seems this is the last day 
of the Carnival, and descending from the tower — where men 
watch for fires night and day — we encounter two men with 
blue painted faces and a bear which reluctantly performs an 
alleged dance, to the evident distress of all the dogs in the 
neighborhood. Then we walk to one of the bridges we saw 
from the tower, and thence on board a steam launch that is act- 
ing in the capacity of ferryboat and steam up the Golden Horn. 
We land after " coming out of the little end of the horn," as 
"Jack Hamlin" says, and engage rowboats (caiques) for the 
return trip. " Jack Hamlin " remarks that gondolas " lay way 
over " these boats. I suggest " Take the caique " in short, and 
am crushed with a look. 

The caique is, in fact, the most inconvenient and dangerous 
kind of craft I ever saw. It is a small boat for rowing ; very 
narrow, very light and very incommodious, with a fatal pro- 
pensity to upset on the slightest pretext, and carrying but two 
passengers, who are exhorted to sit perfectly still and not swamp 
the boat. A quiet row and we are back at the bridge ; a muddy 
walk, a ride up hill in an underground cable railroad and we 
reach the hotel. 

February 18th. — Up bright and early this morning and out 
again. This time we travel in carriages. We see the Pigeon 
Mosque, where we count pigeons by the thousand, and the 
mosque of Suliman the Magnificent, some tombs of Suliman 
and his family, whose lives don't appear to have been of the 
peaceful order, the son having killed his mother and the father 
the son. From here we go to the Bazaars, which appear to be 
one immense building, with streets and shops within it. Lots 
of pretty things are to be seen here in the way of jewelry and 
gold embroidery on velvet or silk. We go to see the Mosque of 
St. Sophia, the handsomest mosque I have seen anywhere, with 
immense domes and half domes and porphyry pillars and 
mosaic, and carpets woven with a spot marked out for each 
person to kneel upon, and seven minarets. When we arrived 
a few children were playing about in the mosque, which I 
approved of at once. One or two men were lmxmbling prayers, 
while their eyes and thoughts wandered after us. We went up 
into the gallery and witnessed the opening of worship below — 
rows of people kneeling on the rows of squares and touching 



THE BLACK SEA. 167 

their foreheads to the floor. We are told a lot of legendary 
history about this church, all of which our guide firmly be- 
lieves, even to the tale of the man who was walled in by a 
miracle four hundred years ago, and who is still buried in the 
wall and is alive yet. He knows he is alive because, when an 
attempt was made to open the wall and see, the hands of the 
workmen were paralyzed. Whenever there is any doubt 
about anything, the remark "The guide says so" settles it at 
once. 

After this we go and see one of the Egyptian obelisks, and a 
museum, which contains antique and battered statues and two 
or three hideous* mummies. At another place we see figures 
dressed in ancient costumes ; and at another, an ancient under- 
ground cistern with one thousand and one pillars in it ; and so 
we have labored through a day. 

February 19th. — This morning the party disbanded for the 
day, each to follow their own special inclinations. It had been 
proposed to go up the Bosphorus to the Black Sea, but some 
were unwilling to take the trip. Two of the gentlemen were 
determined to do it, however, and I joined them, and very glad 
I am I did so. 

We sailed up the Bosphorus on a little steamer. The banks 
of the Bosphorus are lined with mosques and palaces of the 
Sultan and the different embassies. The scenery is lovely even 
now, when the trees are bare and the hills gray ; in summer, 
when all is green, it must be extremely beautiful. We leave 
the steamer before we reach the mouth of the Black Sea, and 
climb a fortress-crowned hill, and there, before us and below, 
lies the Black Sea — not black and stormy, as its name suggests, 
but smooth and bright, its tiny ripples shimmering in the sun- 
light as far as the eye can see. I fall to worshiping it, as I do 
all seas. The day is exceedingly bright and balmy. We lunch 
in the shadow of the ruined walls of the fortress thirteen 
hundred years old, which is overgrown in places with ivy. 
Then, with several last backward looks, we return to the 
Bosphorus, the view of the latter from the hill top being hardly 
less beautiful than the view of the Black Sea on the other side. 
We are rowed across the Bosphorus in caiques to catch the 
return steamer to Constantinople. Arrived at the hotel, we do 
the best we can to make the others miserable because they did 



168 TURKISH WOMEN. 

not go. Truly, it ranks with, some of the finest scenery I have 
looked upon. 

The Turkish women wear white tulle covering over the face 
and head, only a narrow strip of the face heing visible. The 
arrangement suggests a helmet with a partly open visor, 
and they look out of a crack as an oyster might out of his shell. 
This tulle is often - very thin, particularly so if the woman 
who wears it is heautiful. If the woman is not pretty, 
the gauzy covering softens the features and conceals the ugli- 
ness to some extent. Their eyes are generally very fine. 

Constantinople is a far less Eastern-looking city than I had 
supposed, and is much too civilized to suit one. It is quite 
European, in fact ; any quantity of Europeans are to he seen on 
the street. All sorts of costumes appear — plenty of fezes, many 
bright Bulgarian uniforms, and occasionally a man in short 
white skirt, high boots with a rosette on his toes, and belt full of 
revolvers and knives. Beggars are plentiful, with deformities 
that are pitiable. Beggars have a XDarticularly engaging smile, 
and will follow carriages for miles, and smile a Constantinople 
smile. They have sidewalks here, but people prefer the middle 
of the road to walk in. They have a new "wrinkle "at this 
hotel ; they roll your nightdress up from the bottom in a ring 
and lay it in the open bed, so you can just catch it up and throw 
it over your head. The Turkish day commences at sunrise, with 
one o'clock, and goes to twelve, at sunset or thereabouts. They 
consider it unnecessary to count the hours of the night. In 
going out at night one must carry a lantern. Fleas and dogs 
are equally abundant. 

We finished up Turkey with a grand sight, namely, seeing the 
Sultan of Turkey go to mosque. Does not sound particularly 
grand, does it ? Only saw a man go to church. Well, when his 
Sultanship goes to church he doesn't want it forgotten ; but I 
must .begin at the beginning. We left our hotel with our guide 
and as much of an arsenal as can be carried about by one man, 
in close carriages. After a pretty drive of half an hour we are 
set down before a building among a crowd of soldiers and sight- 
seers. We are given the best possible places in the open porch 
or foyer of a house that commands a view of the street and the 
entrance of the mosque on the opposite side of the way. Here 
for as much as an hour we sit and watch the arrival of regiments 



THE SULTAN AT PRAYER. 169 

of soldiers, officers, and visitors of importance. The street before 
us is being sprinkled with fresh dry earth and is filled, now 
with marching- soldiers, now with prancing horses, now with 
officers iii handsome uniforms and brilliant with decorations, 
now with carriages containing the mother, wives and children of 
the Sultan. Gorgeous red and blue and gold and green trimmed 
officers are passing constantly before and through the landing we 
occupy. From time to time carriages draw up and two or three 
boys from ten to fifteen years, the Sultan's sons and nephews, 
also in uniform, come up the steps and by us into the building 
— pretty boys, they are, and as grave and soldierly as possible. 

Everybody is here at last ; two soldiers stand before us, with 
arms presented ; a row of soldiers on the curbstone present arms 
likewise ; officers and soldiers, cavalry and footmen are drawn 
up in every direction ; two carriages containing the wives and 
mother of the Sultan stop by the mosque door and the horses 
have been removed. The black eunuch is gossiping with the 
wives. My four Arab sheiks file by and take places ; carriages 
with gorgeously dressed ladies with tulle covered faces cease to 
pass by ; no more glancing at officers. A little noise and con- 
fusion at the right ; soldiers present arms, band begins to play, 
and the Sultan drives up to the mosque steps, followed closely 
by a lot of horsemen. The carriage he occupies is a victoria. 
He sits on the back seat, not specially distinguished from any of 
the other officers. Two officers occupy the seat in front of him ; 
a muezzin calls the faithful to prayers, from the minaret above 
the mosque. One only catches a glimpse of them, when all 
three have descended and entered the mosque, a lot of attend- 
ants fall in and follow them closely ; then all is quiet for fifteen 
minutes, while the Sultan is at his devotions quite alone in his 
compartment in the mosque. Then there is a parade of the 
officers, which the Sultan reviews from behind a lattice in the 
mosque ; the horses are re-attached to the Sultan's carriage, and 
they are driven away ; and then the Sultan reappears, enters 
his carriage, and is driven off, his retainers and troops falling in 
and following him. The sons and nephews follow in their car- 
riages and the parade is over. And we are driven back to the hotel. 
What with the music and bright uniforms and general novelty, 
we have been very much entertained. We have just time to 
have our lunch, settle our bills, and off we start for the steamer. 



GREECE. 

Hotel D'Angleterre, Athens, February 22d. — Leaving 
Constantinople is as much of an affair as entering it. 

Again we go through, the Custom House, and again our 
passports are called into requisition. We are rowed from one 
wharf to another to attend to these details, and having been 
properly stamped and sealed, are again waylaid by Custom 
House boatmen out by the steamer to inspect our stamps and 
seals. 

We arrived this morning, after being detained by fog for eight 
hours in the Hellespont. Coming in we saw no signs of a har- 
bor or of the vicinity of a city, and had just concluded the 
steamer intended to climb the barren hill just under our bows, 
when we swung short around and sailed slowly into a tiny har- 
bor, which nevertheless was full of shipping. Cook's agent or 
courier was soon on board and took us ashore. This time my 
trunks were really examined, but as I hadn't any tobacco in 
them they were passed through successfully. 

First blood for the baggage smashers ! Lock of my trunk 
broken, leather strap pulled out, and cover torn off one end. 
Fast approaching civilization ! On shore we were put into a 
couple of comfortable carriages and driven from the landing 
place, Pireus, to Athens, about five miles off. Athens is warm 
and green. We find the hotel comfortable and facing a public 
square, where music is being played all the afternoon. I listen 
to the "Beggar Student " while I write. 

February 24th. — One year ago to-day I was running along the 
hurricane deck of the Santa Rosa, with a great terror at my 
heart, hurrying to the stern to catch a last glimpse of the little 
tugboat that was carrying away the last home face I should see 
for some months. As I ran along I encountered a cei'tain gal- 
lant captain with a long and dismal face, and regardless of 
his feelings and only intent on concealing my own, I swallowed 
the tears that were just about to gush and laughed gaily, fling- 
ing him a saucy remark, and got snubbed. So I began a long 
voyage and a most valued friendship. He had his own opinion 
of a young woman who laughed frivolously when, if she had 

170 



ATHENS. 171 

any heart at all, she ought to weep copiously, and I hadn't any 
use for a gentleman who didn't smile at me when I smiled at 
him. And now a whole year has passed, and I have seen ali 
the heathen countries, have finished the East, and am tired of 
traveling. I think, egotistically, that I have seen the most 
novel and interesting part of the world. I've a lingering desire 
to see Pompeii and Rome and Venice. I think crossing the, 
Alps might be nice, and I suppose the Rhine is the thing to do, 
but I'm afraid I've lost interest in traveling and haven't that 
respect for antiquities which one should have to appreciate Eu- 
rope. My friends who have seen Europe say, "You really 
don't need to see Rome after Athens ; the ruins of Athens are 
finer, the antiquities more antique than those of Rome." The 
ruins at Athens date back as far as five hundred years before 
Christ, and goodness knows how much longer. Now I like 
ruins immensely as long as they are grand, picturesque walls 
and temples and pillars, but when they are simmered down to 
a headless body of mutilated stone . I must confess to an entire 
want of interest in its age or history. 

I have enjoyed Athens very much, and we have luxuriated 
in clean streets. The absence of dogs and fleas, and the presence 
of a good band, has contributed largely to our pleasure. The 
ruins are delightfully massive and picturesque. We climb Mar's 
Hill and explore the Acropolis, the Parthenon, Temple of Min- 
erva, and all the rest of the great old ruins with their half- 
effaced bas-reliefs and graceful pillars. We look down from 
the ruin-crowned hill upon the city and the surrounding coun- 
try and see some ruined pillars of another old temple at a little 
distance. We observe what at first appears to be a field of white 
rosettes resting on tall stalks, but which on closer inspection 
prove to be a regiment of Greek soldiers, whose short white 
skirts are plaited so full that they stand out about them rosette 
fashion. Very picturesque they look as they move about like 
so many animated white roses of large size while their stacked 
arms glitter in the sunlight. I saw the same kind of soldiers at 
Constantinople and Smyrna. They are mountaineers and said 
to be exceedingly valiant. 

Descending from Mar's Hill we see two ancient theatres, stone 
semi-circles, on the sides of hills, with stone chairs having 
Greek names upon them, and a semi-circle of steps rising to the 



172 A CHANCE FOR BRIGANDS. 

top of the hill. The stage is a stone floor with a wall and arch- 
ways at the hack, behind which were ranged ancient statues in 
more or less bad repair, and pieces of bas-relief. I wish I could 
see one of their old performances. In walking through the city 
we discover Diogenes' lantern, a little temple in the shape of a 
lantern. 

Ionian Sea, off Corfu, February 26th. — The night before 
leaving Athens I bade good-bye to my party, as I was to leave 
the hotel at the cheerful hour of half -past five. Many were the 
regrets at my leaving. Some brave friends were for rising 
early and seeing me off, but I quashed that suggestion peremp- 
torily, wishing on no account to put them to such inconvenience. 
So before it was light the following morning I slipped down the 
hotel stair, attended by a porter who bade me bon voyage. 
Then into a carriage and off through the dark streets and coun- 
try. An hour's drive to Pireus — such a splendid chance for 
brigands ! But brigands are extinct, and all the romance and 
adventure is rapidly departing before the advance of civiliza- 
tion. I'd like to know what's the use of traveling in Greece if 
you can't have brigands to break the monotony of a journey 
now and then. Of course I had Cook's courier in attendance, 
and he fetched me off in a small boat to the little Greek steamer 
and then left me. A gentleman with a fez, who was, I think, 
an Albanian Greek, seeing me alone, took me immediately 
under his wing, his little sister of fifteen was under his other 
wing. He could speak French, and the officers of the ship 
only Greek, so he was the medium through whom I communi- 
cated. The little sister spoke only Greek, but we smiled friendli- 
ness at one another. I called her the " Maid of Athens " at once. 

After three hours' sail we reached the Salamis, to the joy of 
the seasick, and were landed in small boats and loaded on cars, 
which proceeded with us to the vicinity of Corinth. This is the 
place where they are cutting a canal a la Isthmus of Suez. We 
could not take the steamer from Corinth because the sea was too 
rough. So we were driven in carriages around to the other side 
of the little bay, where the steamer lay sheltered by the hills, 
and, by means of boats again, got on board — I haven't had the 
pleasure of walking on board ship from a wharf since I left 
Singapore — then Ave sailed away through the blue waters of the 
Gulf of Lepanto. 



GREEK CHARACTERISTICS. 173 

I bless my lucky stars that sent me off on a Greek steamer 
and alone, for now I do come into contact with the people, and 
I find them more than nice. I never fell into acquaintance 
with people more easily. I find them social, cordial and genial, 
very like the French, but more sincere. I am again next the 
captain at table, a Greek captain, and the center of a jolly social 
set of gentlemen, all bent on entertaining me. One or two of 
the Greeks speak a little English, but French is the neutral 
ground on which we all meet. I do not know anything of the 
position of women in Greece, but the family relations seem to 
be the loveliest. Brothers give their sisters the tenderest care, 
showing an affectionate solicitude for their health and comfort 
that is charming. Masculine cousins entertain the warmest and 
most affectionate friendship for each other, and friends exhibit 
a sincere cordiality and bonhomie towards each other that I 
have never seen equalled anywhere else. The genial good 
nature and readiness to laugh won my heart. They are all 
very fond of music, too, and the air was full of snatches of 
opera. 

It looks rather curious to see gentlemen kissing each other, as 
these people do when they meet or part, and they kiss as if they 
meant it, too. Two gentlemen will fly into each other's arms 
at meeting, and exchange two or three perfectly stunning 
kisses full on the lips, and then look unutterable affection into 
each other's eyes. I enjoyed very much watching gentlemen 
walking up and down the deck with arms about each other's 
waists, blending their voices in some bit of opera, or Greek love 
song in the moonlight. There is no lack of dignity in the Greeks, 
there is no silly monkeying or hasty anger, but they look as if they 
respected themselves, while they conduct themselves with the 
easy spontaneous affection and playfulness of children. Toward 
me they were at once cordial, respectful and considerate — in 
short, gentlemanly in every sense of the word. The passengers 
and captain both inquired if I was satisfied with my quarters 
on board, and brought their influence to bear on the steward to 
make me entirely so. I was, as usual, made at home on the 
bridge, and, last but not least, while I was the recipient of all 
manner of delicate attentions and neatly implied compliments, 
I was not treated to any nonsense or asked impertinent ques- 
tions about my reasons for traveling alone. 



174 FRIENDS AMONG STRANGERS. 

We reached the Island of Patmos last night and Corfu this 
morning - . I go ashore and a Greek gentleman takes me to his 
sisters, two pretty Greek girls who receive me cordially. The 
girls speak French. I am entertained and chatted with, and 
nothing can exceed the polite cordiality and interest with which 
I am received and entertained. Presently I am shown the gar- 
den, and the carriage is ready. The elder sister tears herself 
away from some callers; and goes with me and the brother for 
a drive, to see the gardens of a gentleman to whom I was intro- 
duced at Athens and who has been a fellow passenger here. He 
is a member of the Greek Parliament, and I am informed is their 
leading citizen at Corfu, much loved and respected. After 
wandering through his gardens • (the Greeks are very fond of 
flowers), we drive up the hill to a place called "One Gun" 
where there is a pretty view. My friends come on board with 
me and say good-bye with an interchange of cards, thanks, 
invitations, and farewells. So I part again with friends, the 
friends of yesterday to be sure, but warm and substantial friends 
for all that. One never knows how many real good, generous, 
disinterested, warm-hearted people there are in the world until 
one goes among strangers in strange lands, and then it does one 
good to find how many people there are to lend a helping hand 
to a traveler. Everything tends to confirm my belief in the 
inherent unselfishness of human nature. 

I sailed out of the pretty little harbor of Corfu with the pleas- 
antest feelings towards Greece and her people. The climate is 
bright and sunny, and so soft and balmy. Corfu has a most 
picturesque fortress as you enter the harbor. 



ITALY. 

Hotel Eoyale, Naples, February 28th. — A rough night on 
the water, and I have crossed the Adriatic Sea. I am up in the 
morning before it is light, the first one on deck. The cook is 
asleep in the galley and the first officer in the companion way. 
I slip by and out on deck to see the harbor as we come in. We 
sail past a long spit of land, several lighthouses, and sundry 
buoys, into the harbor of Brindisi, close to the wharf, and I 
take my first view of sunny Italy with the sunny part of the 
contract unfulfilled. An Austrian Lloyd steamer lies near by, 
and a little boat flying " Cook's Tours " flag, lies at her steps. 
I wave my little green ticket book and the boatman comes over 
to me. 

My trunks pass through the long dreaded Italian Custom House 
without trouble or fees. I get breakfast, and am put on the car 
for Naples. Italian is not at all difficult. The train guard asks 
me if lam "Sola" and I respond "Si," and I observe that 
" quanto "is "how much" and "questo" is "where." There 
is an English translation of an " Aviso " in the cars, which in- 
forms me that carrying jewelry in trunks without declaring it 
" is an abusive and illegal fact." 

We travel a long way up, by the blue Adriatic Sea. The 
country reminds me of some of Bret Harte's stories of Spanish 
missions along the California coast. There is an almost treeless 
flat landscape, with almost windowless stone houses, and con- 
vents looking out on the blue sea, with here and there a monk 
or gray-hooded friar wending his way from one to the other. 
It is picturesquely bare and bright. There is a sprinkling of 
peasants at work in the fields, and an all-pervading brilliant 
sunlight. Suddenly I become conscious of another feature in 
the landscape. Is that ccfnicalheap of stones, with but a single 
aperture, supposed to be a house, a habitation for human 
beings ? It can't be ! There is a donkey peering out of the 
doorway of one like it. And yet, seeing a great many of them, 
with signs of habitation about, I conclude they are the homes 
of the peasantry. Well, well, they are almost as primitive as 
Indian houses. In India, I couldn't tell a house from a haystack ; 

175 



176 NAPLES. 

here I can't tell a house from a pile of stones. A long ride fol- 
lows through a country, all under cultivation, entirely bare but 
for the tender green of very youthful crops. One change of 
cars at a great stone depot where I get an excellent lunch and 
then we get into the hilly country. After dark we pass around 
and through some mountains. 

I am just beginning to wonder if that high mountain is not 
Vesuvius and the place at the foot of it Naples, that I passed 
twenty minutes ago, when we come into a depot that is unmis- 
takably Naples. A porter appears and takes possession of my 
baggage. I say "Hotel Royale," and he takes me to the bus 
thereof, to the conductor of which I confide my baggage re- 
ceipt and follow him into the Custom House. Heavens ! Is 
there going to be a Custom House at every city in Italy ? There 
is nothing mean or underhand about these Custom House fel- 
lows. The officer just asks, "Got any tobacco?" "No." 
"Eire arms?" "No. Here are the keys." "Oh, all right," 
in choice Italian. My trunks are on the counter ; two official 
porters point to the undisturbed straps, and stretch their hands 
across to me crying, "Largesse, Madame," and "largesse "it 
is. A couple of francs fall into the hands, and the trunks are 
tossed into other waiting hands, and into the bus. 

It's a long way to the hotel, and the bus is to wait an hour 
longer for the Rome train, and it's now half -past nine P. M., so 
the conductor puts me into a cab or hack — goodness knows 
which, I don't — and charges me particularly to hang on to my 
small baggage, and away I go at a rattling pace through the 
partly lighted streets along the moonlit bay to the hotel. 
Arrived there I present my card. " You have letters for me ? " 
"Yes." A stack is produced. " You want a room?" "Oh, 
yes, front, please, looking on the bay." "All full except the 
fourth floor." "That will do, eleventh, if you like." And then 
I climb the stairs. It proves to be a pretty little single room ; 
two easy chairs, one window with a. balcony looking out over 
the bay, only the width of the street intervening between the 
hotel and water. ' ' How much ? " " Seven francs a day ; " six 
if I stay a week. ' ' All right, send up my trunks and don't dis- 
turb me in the morning ; bon soir, " and I plunge into my letters. 

I am pretty tired. Two days I am going to give to absolute 
rest and letters, then I'll start out bright and fresh, ready to see 



POMPEII. 177 

this town and do battle with the natives therein. Directly in 
front of my window is an island which I take to be Capri, and 
close by juts out a bridge with an old stone fortress at the end 
of it. Hand organs are everywhere hei'e, and I wake up to 
the dulcet strains of an organ grinder under my window, 
breakfast to the music of a marching band of Italian soldiers, 
write while entertained by an orchestral band close by, and am 
lulled to sleep by singers in the street or an adjoining amuse- 
ment house, or both, too sleepy to distinguish which. ' ' Sunny 
Italy " is not as sunny as it might be just now. It raineth, and 
when it doesn't rain an air of gloom hangs over Naples. I can 
see Vesuvius from my balcony. Its top is enveloped in clouds 
of steam all day ; at night it breathes fire. I think I felt a slight 
earthquake shock last night. 

March 10th. — After a few days' rest I recovered myself suffi- 
ciently to see the sights. I went first to Pompeii. I wandered, 
with a guide, through the streets of that ancient city with a great 
deal of interest, observing the form of houses, the paintings 
on the walls, the decorative art generally, the deep-set streets, 
with wheel tracks worn deep into the stone pavement ; the large 
high stones in the middle of the street for people to cross upon 
from sidewalk to sidewalk without wetting their feet ; the 
Temples of Isis and Jupiter, the bath establishments, with their 
hot and cold water baths, their drying rooms, the walls built 
with apertures for the warm air to pass through ; all this and 
more, but Pompeii has been seen and written of by too many 
people for me to attempt any description of it. The theatre 
was like those at Athens. There is a museum where there are 
casts of the unfortunates as they died flying from the eruption 
that destroyed the city. 

I went to the museum in Naples and studied with a great 
deal of interest the model of Pompeii there — a most perfect 
representation, in every detail, of Pompeii as it is to-day. 

There were lots of paintings at the museum, but, oh dear, if 
this is a sample of the jDaintings I am to see throughout Europe 
I don't want to see any more, What is the use of painting 
unless one can paint something that is beautiful to look at. If 
these men of art had only been moved to paint groups of beau- 
tiful women and children, representing some bit of romance or 
comedy, instead of battlefields, massacres, tortures, and cruci- 



178 A FIELD FOR OOMSTOCK. 

fixions, how much, more attractive would these galleries be 
to-day ! What horrible places they are now — death, murder, 
torture, blood, agony on every side, with only here and there a 
Christopher Columbus by way of relief. As for color — but I 
must wait until I've been through the principal galleries before 
I criticise. In sculpture they do much better ; the human form 
divine is the inexhaustible theme. Still the sculptors had their 
nightmares, the Dying Gladiators, and that horror of horrors, 
the "Laocoon," the pictures of which used to fill my childish 
sleep with frightful dreams. 

Have Anthony Comstock or Henry Berg ever been abroad ? 
They can't have been. If they had, nothing but the keenest 
sense of satire could have prompted the war they wage in 
America, of all the countries in the world, against cruelty to 
animals and against art. Go to Egypt, Mr. Berg ; there is a 
large field for you there. There are thousands of wretched 
little donkeys, overloaded, sore, ill-fed, lifting up their voices 
for sympathy and consolation and — you. All through the East 
you will find water buffalo and camels and donkeys trying to 
walk on all four feet sideways to keep their tails out of reach 
of brutal drivers who, when they can't reach and twist that 
appendage, poke at them with sticks. And, Mr. Comstock, 
after you had locked up and destroyed all the lovely Naiads, 
Nymphs, Venuses, Junos, and the immoral perfections of a 
host of Hercules and other gods, leaving us only the horrors ; 
after this, if you had time, you might turn your attention to 
the suppression of some of the habits of the residents of Naples 
that render many of the streets of that city a horror to every 
sense and the fruitful source of disease. 

The street before my hotel on the banks of the Mediterranean 
is beautifully clean, and so is the Via Roma, ex-Toledo, but I 
have driven through a long street lined with the villas of the 
wealthy, and while I saw, through open doors, vistas of beauti- 
ful garden stretching to the sea, I was driven through an intol- 
erable stench, all on a lovely, bright, dry day. This is the 
place for you, Mr. Comstock. When out driving you could 
catch an occasional glimpse, through an open window, of a 
picture of lovely women robed only in native grace. This is 
the country that needs you, Mr. Comstock. America is the most 
civilized country in the world. America could do without you. 



VESUVIUS—THE ASCENT. 179 

I wished to see Vesuvius both by day and by night, and 
yoined a party that started at about 3 P. M. , having 1 our drive 
and getting- up to the observatory by daylight. It was a lovely 
clear day and we had all the benefit of the view. The party 
consisted of three French people, two gentlemen and a lady, 
the latter pretty and all "chic" and bonhomie, the proprietor 
of the hotel, and myself. We carried lunch along with us, and 
dined on the side of the mountain, beside a little Italian restau- 
rant, meanwhile admiring the view of the country below us and 
watching the setting of the sun. Then we drove up a little fur- 
ther where we got into a car that stood at an alarming angle. 
When we started we felt very much as if we were going up in 
a balloon. We were ten minutes climbing to the top, or upper 
station, in this way. The French lady was very fearful, though 
jolly withal. She kept saying, "Quel courage! " and "Quel 
courage nous avons ! " It was dark by this time. 

As we looked below we saw the Bay of Naples marked out 
like a glittering horseshoe of lights, with innumerable lights 
radiating inland from that semicircle. Having reached the 
upper station and stepped out from the cars and the shed that 
serves the purpose of a depot, we are besieged by men with 
chairs and ropes who want to carry or help us up the mountain. 
The French lady takes a chair. I decline positively. I've been 
warned against it as being uncomfortable. I've also been told 
that if I touch a rope that's offered me by these guides I will be 
charged five francs a touch. We are all put on our guard 
about this. 

We start off, the lady in the chair, two torch bearers with 
large firebrands, the three gentlemen and myself walking 
together, all followed by a lot of other guides and chairmen. 
The porters carrying the lady go ahead as fast as they can to 
tire me out so as to make me take a chair, too, and keep up an 
incessant warning, which my companions translate to me, as to 
the steepness and difficulty and inevitable resort to the chair, 
which will not cost any more for the whole way than for half. 
To all of which I turn a deaf ear, and reply ' ' No, non, non, 
non," with all shades of emphasis from mild to ferocious. On 
we go. It's not so very far, nor yet so very steep. There is a 
regular track part of the way, but it is of granulated lava, into 
which we sink ankle deep, and slip back as we walk ; and if we 



180 VESUVIUS — THE CRATER. 

walk on one side, too near the edge, it is likely to give way and 
let us slide down the mountain. I've a gentleman on either 
side of me, but the guide boys get around in front and offer me 
ropes insinuatingly or try to force them into my hand. Then I 
stop and stamp my foot and look daggers, until they get dis- 
couraged for the moment. Neither will I allow either of the 
three gentlemen with me to afford me any assistance, save and 
except driving the boys away. If I am unable to climb, I'll 
take a chair or other assistance, and pay for it, and not impose 
my weekness on any one else. So I decline arms, hands, ropes, 
chairs, even when we leave the beaten track and fall to climb- 
ing boulders of lava and walking over places where steam of 
sulphur is coming up through the ground, until we come to the 
very last boulder, and then I am handed up the last high step, 
and we have reached the top. 

The crater is like a basin within a basin and we stand on the 
outer rim. At our feet is a broad ditch, the other side of which 
forms the crater, only a few feet from where we stand. The 
volcano is at its regular business, firing up red-hot lava and 
stones. Fortunately the wind is blowing from our direction, 
so we don't get the smoke, and everything falls away from us, 
though sometimes a blast will send chunks of burning lava 
alarmingly near. When we have seen enough of this and have 
reflected that this is what we see every night from the hotel, 
and after I have received the congratulations and compliments 
of my comrades for my ability to climb, we desire to be taken 
to where we can see the lava pouring out. So we climb down 
from the boulder, and go down and around and up again, over 
boulders and steaming crevices, until we stand on another 
ridge and look down, but a foot or two, on an acre or so of 
black <3rust of lava, fissured all over with cracks through 
which fire is escaping. 

Here and there burning lava has burst forth and is flowing, 
a river of liquid, moulten fire, down the mountain side, nearly 
to the foot— a red-hot mountain stream, many feet in breadth, 
rippling out of the earth in waves of fire. "While we watch 
the source of one of these red rivers it closes up, and another 
opens in the black crust, to flow for a while and then close up, 
only to break forth in some new place. The brightness of the 
fire is intensified by the blackness of night. The contrast 



VESUVIUS— THE DESCENT. 181 

between the red-hot lava and the black surrounding crust of 
cold lava is most brilliant. It is nine o'clock at night, and 
there is no moon to lessen the effect, as we stand there for up- 
wards of half an hour and watch first the fluctuations of this 
bed of fire beneath the cracked black coverlet, and then 
glance back where the volcano is hurling burning stones and 
lava high above us. 

We give the guides coppers, and they go down upon the 
crust and dip them in the red boiling lava, and bring them 
back to us, as mementoes, imbedded in a red-hot but rapidly 
blackening mass of lava. While we stand there a party of 
three gentlemen come singing along. The first man is sup- 
ported by a guide on each side of him, the other two are cling- 
ing fast to a guide apiece. This excites the special amusement 
of my party, and I am again complimented on my pluck. 
Finally we start back. 

The descent is of course easier, for one slips down most of the 
way, except that one must watch where one walks and not go 
over the side or step in any steaming fissures. We pass chairs 
all along the way, where they have been dropped by discour- 
aged guides. The chair of the French lady has broken down 
repeatedly, vindicating my wisdom in relying on my own two 
feet to carry me safely wherever I might desire to go. We 
reach the depot, fee the guides, take possession of our memen- 
toes, and descend the mountain in the car, as we ascended, slow- 
ly and surely. The lower depot reached, the party goes into a 
hotel for refreshments. There my patience is put to the test, 
and, I fancy, so is the French lady's. We have orangeade ; the 
gentlemen, beer and cigarettes, and there we sit for more than 
an hour while one gentleman smokes cigarette after cigarette, 
sips his beer and dispenses his insipid remarks, half an hour after 
we have all expressed our desire to go at once. At last we started 
down the mountain, a man running before us with a naming 
torch to light our way until we reach the city. The road is a 
very good one and winds about the mountain through fields of 
boulders of black lava twisted into innumerable monstrous 
shapes. 

During that long drive I learn to hate that suave French- 
man, with his selfishness, egotism and conceit. His fussy, 
troublesome anxiety for our comfort, all false, and springing, 



182 MADE A HEROINE. 

like everything else about him, from his own vanity, is unen- 
durable ; and my hatred is not diminished by sitting next him 
at dinner the next day and hearing his shallow, false, Vain, 
tender inquiries for my health. How I should like to tell him 
how disgusting is his mask of sweetness, how unendurably 
stupid and senseless are his remarks, how thoroughly detestable 
he appears to any woman with a grain of sense, with his fair, 
insipid, untruthful face, his suave voice and false words of ten- 
derness. Thank heaven, I am going away to-morrow. 

It was nearly two o'clock when we reached the hotel that 
night. I awoke the next morning to find the manager of 
the hotel had made a heroine of me with his comments on my 
pluck and determination in climbing Vesuvius at night. I've 
done Vesuvius as I wanted to and am happy. I went with the 
Mayfields, who are here, for a drive to the Observatory, where 
we got a fine view of the city. We went into the church and 
museum of St. Martin, the wall of an inner courtyard of which 
is decorated with marble skulls. Pretty conceit that ! The 
museum was an interesting one and contained a large picture, 
like a stage scene, of the birth of Christ, with peasantry and 
people of various nationalities engaged in various occupations, 
camels and waterfalls, and angels hovering over all. This 
church was pretty, but I can't say I admire decorations formed 
of pieces of the anatomy of dead and gone saints. They may 
have been very holy, but their crumbling bones are not pretty. 
From here we drove down to the city over the dog grotto and 
through the Chia-ya, the fashionable drive, past the former 
dwelling place of Garibaldi, and home. Naples has been bright 
and lovely during my stay. To-night it is foggy and the air is 
full of miasma. Out of doors there is a dreadful stench and the 
foul air comes half way up the stairway. My window is closed, 
so the bad air has not got into my room perceptibly. No won- 
der they have cholera and Roman fever. Thank goodness, I 
leave to-morrow. 

Coming from Pompeii I took a cab at the depot, and seeing I 
was a stranger, the driver thought he would make something 
extra out of me. I knew there was a regular tariff and did not 
stop to bargain about the fare before getting in ; so after we 
had started the driver turned around to me and said, "You 
give me two francs ? " I said, ' ' I'll give you your regular 



THE EUROPEAN HOTEL. 183 

fare." He persisted with his "You give me two francs?" un- 
til I said, "I'm not going to pay you at all ; you take me to the 
Hotel Roy ale and the porter will pay you your fare." Then he 
said, " You tell him to give me two francs ? " I agreed to that, 
and he whipped up his horse and away we went at a rattling 
gait, the driver laughing gaily and turning around to me con- 
tinually to say, "You give me two francs? He very good 
horse. You give me two francs ? He go very fast ; you give 
me two francs ? " until we reached the hotel, when I turned 
him over to the porter, who ran out immediately he saw me 
and gave him a slight advance on his regular fare instead of 
the two francs. His behavior reminded me of the Arabs on the 
pyramids who keep saying to you as you climb, "You make 
me satisfied, I make you satisfied." 

I don't find the European hotel system half as uncomfortable 
as I expected ; everybody is courteous and polite. I don't know 
what I should do if I were a stranger in a New York hotel, we 
do mind our own business so severely in New York. There is 
a little boy waiter here who is apparently only ten or eleven 
years old. He looks very cunning in his dress coat. He, too, 
is the soul of courtesy and always greets me with, ' ' Bon jour, 
Mademoiselle." The cowboy wrote an ode to me after I left 
the party commencing "The little one has left us, we've no one 
now to tease," so my friends tell me. He used to say when he 
was seasick, " I'm a blighted being; consider me blit." He is 
"blit" now, I presume. 

Rome, March 13th. — At Naples I obtained, from Cook's, 
coupons which are to carry me up through Italy, across the Alps 
and down the Rhine, and up to Amsterdam, and down to 
Brussels, and then to Paris and across the Channel, landing 
me ultimately, at any time I like, in London, and all for about 
seventy-five dollars. Fancy traveling all over Europe for 
seventy-five dollars. I am comforted, however, by the reflec- 
tion that the hotels will make it sufficiently lively for my 
pocketbook to even up matters. I shall lay in a supply of 
Cook's hotel coupons and head them off a little in that way. 
Cook is a blessing ; there is no doubt about that. He simplifies 
and cheapens travel to a considerable extent. Having got 
loaded up with tickets, itineraries and instructions, I paid a bill 
about one yard and a half long at the hotel and several fees, 



184 ROME. 

and departed with all my goods and the blessings of the 
hotel. 

At the depot Cook's interpreter introduced me to two Ameri- 
can ladies, a German woman by birth, and her daughter, who 
had been brought up in a convent in Canada and who was 
pretty and young and enthusiastic and learned. I had met them 
once or twice in Naples before. We became friendly right off. 
This pretty girl interested me very much. Her enthusiasm was 
so serious. She knew so much about all she had seen and she 
adored the antique. I haven't the slightest doubt she could 
have told me all about the different tribes and religions in 
India and discussed the difference between the Indian, Japan- 
ese and Chinese architecture, which is more than I could do, 
although she hadn't been there. I did get to know a Hindoo 
and a Parsee occasionally when I saw them, but the rest 
of the sects in India are hopelessly mixed in my mind. 

This girl speaks four languages, notwithstanding which 
she was accustomed to having couriers, although she had just 
concluded, she said, that she could get along better without. 
"Good gracious," I thought, "here I've been all over Naples 
and forgotten that I was obliged to have a courier." 

After having dreaded the Italian courier all the way around 
the world I have forgotten and ignored him in his native lair ! 
I was told a lot of stories of the dangers of going about in 
Naples. I have been told, by the people who live there, that 
Neapolitans are the worst and lowest class of people in the world. 
I was warned morning, noon and night by Cook's men, hotel 
men, storekeepers, to mind about my pocketbook. Well, I did 
" mind," and nothing happened to me in Naples. 

Arrived at Rome I was the only guest for the Constanzi, so 
I had all the stage conductor's attention for my baggage. Got 
to the hotel and found it lovely. I started out immediately in 
search of the bank. I found the way easily enough, and, after 
getting and reading my letters, went out from the hotel again 
on a voyage of discovery. First to the bank again to get " per- 
mits " for everything in Rome, then I walked down the prettiest 
jewelry shop street in Rome to the Corso ; thence up the Corso 
until I came to a Egyptian obelisk (how many of them are thero 
anyway ?). I walked back on the next street, which brought mo 
out, as I expected, at the bank again. I went by the bank instead 



THE VATICAN. 185 

of going up some stairs, which was my way home, to an Ameri- 
can drug store. I didn't want to walk back and climb the 
stairs, so I struck up the next street. Presently I came out at 
the Hotel de la Paix. That hotel stood just opposite my street 
when I came down from the bank, but somehow it had turned 
around, and besides, it had moved over on the other corner of 
the street, and there were half a dozen streets pointing right at 
it and not one of them looked like mine. I concluded I had 
gone far enough before turning, so I walked along a little way 
and asked a soldier, who told me I was going right, but when 
the street began going round I knew I was wrong. I turned 
up one street and walked quickly, because it was getting to- 
wards night, and turned back again down the next, and there 
was the Hotel de la Paix again, and right in front of me a 
garden that I half suspected belonged to my hotel. How to 
get around to it I didn't know, I knew the hotel wasn't more 
than a block off, but on which street I couldn't imagine. It 
was too late forme to go floundering around these streets until I 
struck the right one, and I was hopelessly lost. I, therefore, 
took a passing cab, and sure enough, it just whipped around 
the block and deposited me at the door of the Constanzi, 
but it was the very last street I should have looked for it on. 

After all the very foreign countries I have been in, Naples 
and Rome are so civilized that I feel at home in them. They 
are both gorgeous with jewelry shops, and I feel as if I were 
walking on Broadway. 

It was very rainy this morning, so I took a cab and drove to 
the Vatican Museum. I walked all through it and want to say 
just here, though I ought to wait until I have finished this 
world of art, that neither in this museum nor in the one at Na- 
ples have I seen a piece of sculpture to compare in beauty of 
figure, in conception, or fineness of marble, with those modern 
ones I saw at the Centennial Exhibition, at Philadelphia. 
These are larger — some of them are immense — but they are 
ugly and don't look like real folks, and the subjects are abom- 
inable. One word in a certain learned Professor's ear ; al- 
though these statues are made with bare feet or sandals, it is 
perfectly evident to me that the old Romans wore tight shoes, 
for every one of these statues has a more or less well developed 
bunion. There isn't a single statue in this museum on which 



186 ST. PETER'S. 

you can draw a straight line from the heel to the end of the big 
toe ; on every one among them you have to go around a cor- 
ner of that bunion and slant off at an angle more or less acute 
before you can get to the end of the big toe ; and a more 
marked feature yet is, that they all without exception, have the 
little toe turned toward the foot and curled under very close. 
Tight shoes were evidently universally worn. I am disap- 
pointed and indignant. I didn't come to Rome to see statues 
with bunions. Every time I look at a Hercules or a Gladiator 
knotted all over with muscles, it reminds me of what the man 
with the terra cotta hair and gloves and mustache said about 
his white mule at the Yosemite : "He's full of bunions, but he's 
a daisy." 

Museum officials are the latest victims to my unprotected 
youth. They show me around and explain things to me in the 
most dulcet tones, and after I have passed their department 
they leave people locked up in it while they come and gaze at 
me until I get nervous and flee. Once I tried to allay the in- 
terest in me with a fee, thinking probably that was the cause of 
the gazing ; but no, the fee was delicately declined, as if the 
servitor were not averse to fees ; but from me, ' ' Non, Made- 
moiselle. Merci, c'est un plaiser," et cetera. "Good gracious !" 
I think, and flee. 

I went to St. Peter's next, and certainly it is magnificent. I 
walked up and down its great isles twice and surely in bigness 
it exceeds everything. I looked up at the immense statues of 
past Popes with hands outstretched as if in benediction, with 
expressions of holy love on their stony faces, and with statues 
of women gazing adoringly up at them, and I thought : "I 
used to have a regular nightmare of a book called the ' Book of 
Martyrs,' and there's a picture I have seen of you in Naples, and 
in both book and painting your regular business appears to have 
been lighting martyr fires, plying red-hot pincers, and enjoying 
the agonies of the unfortunate on the rack. Oh, I've seen you 
before in your red gown and lace jacket and bellows hat. This 
great church of yours is a colossal monument to a bloody era 
of martyrdom." I next went to the Vatican picture gallery. 
I say again that, so far as I have seen, the old paintings don't 
compare in point of beauty and interest with some few modern 
paintings I have seen in America. Many of these paintings 



MODERN VERSUS ANCIENT ART. 187 

are extraordinarily large and the colors are exceedingly fine, 
but they are horrible in conception and unnatural in execution. 
I think all the faces wear the same pious expression of sublime 
idiocy. The picture I saw in the exhibition at Philadelphia by 
one of our living artists of "Aphrodite Rising from the Sea" 
as far exceeds anything I have seen here, in conception, in 
beauty, in color, in truth to nature, in everything but size, as 
America exceeds Italy in progress and freedom. 

They say the modern artists can't paint as the old masters did. 
I say it is to be hoped not. These old paintings were fine, 
magnificent for their time, but don't try to palm them off as 
better than can be done to-day. The quicker the artists of to- 
day stop copying from the old masters the better. Melancholy 
Madonnas and brutal crucifixions and tortures, horrible Lao- 
coons, and dying Gladiators are out of date ; they belong to the 
past. Let us now have an era of beauty and happiness, free- 
dom and light in our arts. Let lovely women and children, 
and flowers and sunshine, be the subjects for the future. An 
era of art of that style has already commenced, I think, for most 
modern paintings, that are not copies, are of landscapes, flowers 
and fruits. 

Art has deteriorated in the present day, has it ? We have no 
artists as good as Michael Angelo and Raphael, haven't we ? 
Why, then, can one walk through these ancient galleries and 
museums looking for famous statues and pictures, and instead 
of recognising them pass them by as parts of a mass of ugly, 
uninteresting art ? Why, then, will the same person's interest 
be arrested and chained by half a dozen statues and paintings 
in a modern gallery ? Why does one stand and look at one pic- 
ture for half an hour at a time, and having broken away from 
it return again and again to feast on its beauties ? In our Cen- 
tennial Exhibition, I saw a dozen pictures and statues which 
commanded my admiration the moment they caught my eye 
which held and fascinated me. I returned to them daily to 
take another look at them. They had no history ; I did not 
know who made them ; they were only beautiful. I have seen 
nothing to compare with them here. There was not a thing in 
the Vatican Museum or Gallery pretty enough for me to want 
to know what it was and who did it. I walked through the 
museum three times, examining everything critically. 



188 POLITE ATTENTIONS. 

One thing I noticed particularly ; the old masters "were very 
much at fault when it came to babies. Their babies usually had 
unnaturally small heads and big legs. One nursing child in 
marble had hips like a fully matured woman. My memory 
goes back again to the American Centennial Exhibition to a 
sweet little statue, life size, of a four-year-old girl, so natural, 
so pretty, so beautifully lifelike, that I went and worshiped 
daily at its shrine. Modern artists are good enough for me. 
I've seen only one of the old statues that I would give house- 
room, and I'd only give houseroom to one of the copies of it. 
The small marble copies of the broken Venus de Milo are very 
pretty. 

I am getting more and more sorry for the strangers who visit 
New York. How in the world do they get along with our in- 
conveniently exorbitant carriage hire and expensive hotels and 
general disposition to mind your own business ? If I get lost 
here, I can step into a carriage and be taken home for from ten 
to twenty cents, and, at any time on my arrival, there is an at- 
tentive porter at the door who prevents any trouble about fares. 
He puts me into a cab in the morning, tells me what places are 
open and where to go and instructs my driver. In a strange 
city this is very convenient. As to candles, I think Europe has 
reformed since my friends were here. I guess the Americans 
have bullied them out of lighting a lot of candles when one 
arrives as I have been told is their exasperating habit. They 
only light one for me, and the femme de chambre asks timor- 
ously if she may take the burnt-out socket away. 

March 15th. — Two days more in Rome. Have been to the 
Colosseum. Submitted to having the whole thing explained to 
me by a guide. If guides could only tell one in a few laconic 
sentences all one wanted to know instead of giving one the mi- 
nute history of every scrap of ruin I should like them better. 
If the vast amount of information didn't go out of one ear as 
fast as it came in at the other I should have brain fever before 
one guide got through with me. I have seen the Roman Fo- 
rum. I have driven on the Appian Way and seen a great deal 
of the city. 

To-day being Sunday I made a raid on the churches. I began 
with St. Peter's. I heard mass there this morning ; took a little 
campstool along and took up a position in the corner of the base 



SOME CHURCHES. 189 

of a pillar. Watched people "walking about the church courtesy- 
ing at odd places. Some would courtesy awkwardly and hesitat- 
ingly, others quickly and mechanically, with a jaunty nod, and 
still others with a long, ballroom sweep, suggestive of ' ' visit- 
ing" in the lanciers. Was rather disconcerted by having people 
coiirtesy towards or drop down on their knees and assume an at- 
titude of prayer immediately before me ; tried to get out of the 
way, but couldn't do it. All the corners and all the centers 
were before or over something sacred. Concluded I could stand 
it if they could. Saw one lace- jacketed priest get up from his 
knees and, meeting another one, laugh and shake hands in a 
regular " how are you, old boy ? " fashion. Listened to the ser- 
vice. The priest was a pretty good actor. He was evidently 
always praying for mercy or trying to get away from the 
"naming sword." Music very beautiful; soprano sung by a 
gray -haired man. 

Mass being over I went to the Corsini Palace to see the Far- 
nese Frescoes. Some pretty women and cherubs. Then I did 
some churches : St. Maria Maggiore, very big and fine ; the 
Lateran with the holy stairs, up which a lot of people were 
climbing on their knees ; St. Pietro in Vincoli (St. Peter in 
chains) ; with Michael Angelo's famous statue of Moses. It 
needs be famous, for it isn't pretty. After that St. Maria del 
Popolo, where I saw a lot of "Contadina" (Italian peasant 
girls) and Sunday School Classes of children getting trained up 
' ' in the way they should go " by the priests. 

On my return I drove through the grounds of the Borghese 
Villa, encountering the Prince of Naples. The Prince bowed 
to me politely. I didn't know he was the Prince and am not 
accustomed to returning sahitations of strange gentlemen, so I 
only looked surprised as they drove rapidly by. Fancy having 
"cut" a Prince. Must I bow to princes when I meet them? 
This one was a young boy. 

My independent soul rejoices in the fact that I am doing 
everything without a courier or guide. I've been taking things 
very easy in Rome. I'm tired yet from my previous hasty 
traveling. Talk about its taking two or three weeks to see 
Rome. I've been here nine days and out of that nine days, one 
day I remained at home all day and three days I merely walked 
and shopped and called at the bank, and of the five days that I 



190 HOW TO SEE ROME. 

have given to sightseeing I have only given three or four 
hours. I think now, knowing where places are and taking 
them in order, I could do Rome very completely and satisfac- 
torily in five days. I have risen at eleven, seen sights until four v 
written until twelve, midnight, and slept until ten. I will line 
out the programme for the benefit of other travelers. 

The first day I should do as I did, walk the streets, go to 
banker's, look at shops, get the points of the compass located. 
Second day, go first to Vatican Museum, then to "Vatican picture 
gallery, and finally into St. Peter's. Third day, go first to 
Capitoline Museum, then gallery opposite, then down on the 
other side of the hill to the Roman Forum, from there to the 
Colosseum, then for a drive to the Villa Borghese, or out on the 
Appian Way until after half -past three, and to the Pantheon on 
the way back to the hotel. Fourth day, I would do the palaces, 
and then drive ; commencing with the Barbarine Palace and 
ending with the Borghese Palace. Fifth day, I'd do the 
churches and any odd palaces that might be left over, and 
drive. Most things close at three o'clock, so one has plenty of 
time to drive or shop every day. There are a few other ruins 
to be looked at, but some of them you see on your way to and 
from the other places, and they are not much to see. Oh, I 
forgot, there are the Catacombs. I have left them out entirely. 
I don't want to see any bones. I couldn't be induced to go 
there. I have to see enough horrid, musty, mouldy relics, as it is. 

I don't want to go and examine minutely all the old relics, or 
decipher all the ancient hieroglyphics, but I like to go and 
stand on the Capitoline stairs and look down on the Roman 
Forum, with its arches and columns, and beyond it on the walls 
of the Colosseum. There one gets an idea of the past greatness 
of Rome. There are fine arrangements of statuary everywhere 
through the city. A favorite fountain of mine is a gigantic sort 
of bas-relief against the wall of a building, with giant men hold- 
ing rampant and colossal horses, with lions at their feet spout- 
ing waterfalls into a larger waterfall that tumbles between 
them. These great statues are blackened and blistered and not 
pretty, but they are picturesque. 

They seem to have an unlimited supply of Egyptian obelisks 
in Rome. I am forever running across them ; I use them as 
guide posts. 



SOME PALACES. 191 

Talk about "dwelling in marble halls!" I pity the people 
who live in these palaces. I've only seen one that I should 
desire to live in more than an hour, and that one I expect would 
carry me off with hasty consumption in a week ; for they are 
the coldest, dampest, most comfortless places in the world. Do 
the titled owners of them inhabit these galleries, I wonder, on 
the days the public are not admitted ? And do they subsist on 
the half francs and francs the flunkeys receive from the depart- 
ing guests at the door ? If I had all these pictures I wouldn't 
have them hung all together in a gallery, anyway, but have 
them distributed through all the salons of the house in various 
points of vantage. 

At the Palazzo Cbrsini I only saw frescoes. At the Barbarina 
Palace I went looking for the two famous pictures, Raphael's 
Fornarina and Guido's Beatrice Cenci, and mightily disgusted I 
was when I saw them. I had seen in the same gallery a couple 
of freshly painted copies of Beatrice Cenci that I rather admired; 
but beauty, oh, dear I She looks like a small boy I'm acquainted 
with when he was teething — mournful and peaked. She has a 
wan-looking chin, a Jewish cast of face, and looks blue around 
the root of the nose, as if she suffered from chronic catarrh. 
Raphael's Fornarina is also a Jewess, with just that protuber- 
ant over-ripe look that Jews nearly always have. I went to 
the Rospigliosso Palace, where I saw Guido's famous Aurora on 
the ceiling. It is large and grand, and the colors are truly 
lovely. After admiring that I spent the rest of the time in trying 
to escape an abominable torture picture which captured me at 
last and poisoned my whole being with its atrocity. I made my 
escape finally and went to the Borghese Palace. Now, this is 
something like a palace. I wander from one pictured room to 
another, coming upon a great inlaid table of different colored 
marbles in one room and a statue of Apollo in a corner look- 
ing out into a court. Here, too, I find the famous pictures 
rather unsatisfactory, but I find a number of pretty ones ; here 
is a picture of Eve that reminds me of Aphrodite. And here is 
a picture of a French Eve clothed in nothing but a broad brim- 
med plumed hat on a nicely coiffured head and the tail of a 
serpent around her neck. The rest of the serpent is engaged in 
squeezing the life out of an unhappy-looking cupid by her 
side, by which the artist meant to say, I suppose, that the 



192 MORE PALACES AND PICTURES. 

"trail of the serpent is over us all," and "all is vanity," 
et cetera. 

I am afraid my tastes are abominably immoral, for, of all the 
pictures, my fancy was most taken by the paintings of naughty 
Madame Potiphar and Joseph. I saw three pictures of them in 
all, and each one prettier than the last. The painter is un- 
known, but they are the most natural and lifelike, as well as 
the most beautiful faces and figures, I have seen. How I 
should like to buy them and bring them home, or copies of 
them ; but nobody copies them ; all the artists are diligently 
engaged in copying Beatrice Cenci and the Fornarina or some 
wretched martyr. Joseph is represented as young, handsome 
and boyish looking, and I wonder at his exemplary behavior 
when I look at Madame Potiphar, for she is as pretty as a pink. 
I'm in love with her myself, with her sweet, smiling face and 
lovely, golden hair, just escaping from a net of pearls, and 
beautiful feet and limbs and the gauzy white robe, half conceal- 
ing, half revealing a figure that is all grace and loveliness. 

I have seen one truly lovely face on a Saint Sebastian. More 
palaces and pictures. I am beginning to see palaces that are 
something like — stage palaces, with gold chairs and red cush- 
ions faded and worn, just as we have them in our theatres. 
Yesterday I went to the Doria Palace. It contains a very large 
collection of pictures, and a beautiful hall lined with statues 
and plate glass. This gallery was on an upper floor, and was 
light and pleasant. After walking through the gallery I had 
made a complete circuit of the house, which surrounds a court, 
as all the palaces and most of the hotels and houses do in Rome. 
In this gallery I came across two pretty things in the way of 
sculpture — a couple of groups of three marble baby boys, all 
tangled up together in a game of romps. They were happy and 
laughing and natural, except that their heads are too small, and 
they are abnormally fat. After that I was prepared for the sev- 
eral dozen Holy Families, and Virgin and Childs, and St. 
Jeromes, and St. Sebastians, all in states of holy beatitude and 
suffering piety. I can tell a Holy Family a mile off now ; I don't 
have to look at the programme to see what it is. I don't even want 
to know who did it ; they are all equally ugly and distressing. 

Ah, here is a pretty boy's head by Vandyke. And here is 
Suzanne again. Whatever had that unfortunate young woman 



A FAIR BUT PERFUNCTORY TOURIST. 193 

done that she never was allowed to bathe herself in peace ? 
Why were those two graybeards everlastingly prowling around, 
climbing stone walls and balconies and coming on her un- 
awares ? And here is a fat, red haired Maddalena by Titian. 
Titian's Mother and Child would be good, but I have insuper- 
able objections to infant Christs with abnormally small heads 
and deformed bodies. 

Going through this gallery I have been entertained in an- 
other way. A young English lady — I should have said Amer- 
ican, for she was very pretty, if her feet had not been so large 
— was walking through the gallery. She wasn't a bit interested 
in pictures, evidently thought it a great bore, was rather pleased 
at promenading through a palace, but wouldn't even look at 
the pictures. She stopped and looked at herself though, in a 
glass, for several minutes with apparently great satisfaction. 
She walked jauntily along, hummed a bit of opera, and sat 
down on a sofa to wait for her companion, an elderly gentle- 
man who knew a Titian when he saw it and wanted her to 
recognize it too. While she sat she gazed with unutterable scorn 
on whatever was before her. Sometimes she would not reply 
when spoken to. She was not really cross, but she didn't want to 
see and she wouldn't. She reminded me very forcibly of myself. 

I went to the Capitoline Gallery, and found, among the usual 
Holy Families and Saints, two pretty pictures. One, an angel 
floating over a stream, was something like my favorite Aphrodite; 
and another, a Venus and Adonis in the usual state of beati- 
tude and nuditude, if I may call it so, with Cupid in the extreme 
foreground looking over his shoulder at you with his finger in 
his mouth and the most perfect expression on his cherubic face 
of mischief taken by surprise. 

Feeling somewhat rested and my sauciness restored, I started 
out to deliver my dreaded letters of introduction sent me by 
an eminent churchman, from America. One I delivered to a 
gentleman at his bank and got a new supply of "permessos." 
The other was to a lady who is happily out of Rome, and I am 
relieved from the danger of being introduced, as I was told I 
should be, to the "best society in Rome." I at least have done 
my duty in presenting the letters. 

Really I am enjoying Rome very much, I don't know a soul. 
Two ladies wanted to take possession of me at one time, but they 



194 AT THE TABLE D'HOTE. 

have gone away. I sit at table as solemn and as silent as a 
sphinx. I am sufficiently entertained by the chatting of the 
people about me. An old French lady, who enjoys the most 
aristocratic poor health and has a bigoted English brute of a 
husband, whom I abhor, tries to stare me into some sign of 
recognition, but I am obdurate ; if she wants to know me she 
can bow and smile and I'll respond, but as long as she stares I 
shall ignore her. Next to her is an English lady. The two 
ladies are interesting, and being English and French, I suppose 
they are used to masculine snubbing. The way the French 
woman's English husband interrupts their conversation and 
pooh-poohs their opinions and calls them in effect fools and 
idiots, makes me furious. They talk a good deal of Ameri- 
cans — all English people do it would seem. They say " she is 
an American," and they "know by her dress and her looks and 
her manner," and they say " a good many American girls are 
marrying in these countries," and they think it " a good thing for 
the Americans — gives them a fresh start with some old aristo- 
cratic blood." They say also that American dentists are the best 
in the world, and the Americans are the smartest mechanics on 
the globe ; whereat I think patriotically, " You bet," but am out- 
wardly calm. Then the man looks right past me at a lady be- 
hind me and says, "Why, there is a female woman at dinner 
all alone." Then he catches sight of me, obviously alone, as 
his wife says " Sh," and he is covered with confusion most 
dire. Whereupon I smile broadly. He tries to recover him- 
self by qualifying his remark, and when I rise and leave the 
table he bows most impressively by way of apology. I barely 
incline my head and walk by with hauteur in every step, but 
mirth in my soul. I do love to catch superior Englishmen in 
some "betise" or other. Just wait until another Englishman 
tells me the Americans over here are so noisy, talk so loud at 
table, and are such bad form generally. 

I like going through the picture galleries alone untrammeled 
by other people's tastes or knowledge. To-day I went first 
to the Colonna Palace. It was a fine palace. Before I entered 
the galleries I passed through several rooms hung with great 
tapestries. I was delighted with these ; the great pictures on 
them were pretty and striking. I then came to a room with a 
single picture on the wall, the portrait, I suppose, of the last 



ONE LOVELY PICTURE. 195 

Prince of the house. The chair beneath it was turned to the 
wall. The galleries beyond were very fine, with frescoed walls 
and choice paintings and marble floors and rows of statuary, a 
long vista of beauty above and below. Then another room de- 
voted to the family portraits, though indeed they were strewn all 
through the rooms, in great pictures on horseback or in robes of 
state, standing with princely mien in coat of mail or plumed 
hat and Spanish ruff. Rulers and knights and dandies and 
cardinals, all Colonnas. The first room I entered was an audi- 
ence chamber with dais and canopy complete. It takes one 
away back to the Middle Ages. 

At the Palazzo Spada I saw the famous statue of Pompey, at 
whose feet Julius Caesar fell ; at least that is the way the guide 
book "puts it." More pictures of crucifixions, martyrs, saints, 
and Holy Families mingle with portraits of dead and gone 
Spada Cardinals. In the gallery of the Corsini Palace were 
more of the crucifixion, the Holy Family, Mary Magdalene, 
St. Jerome, St. Sebastian, between half a dozen and a dozen of 
each. Here again is that unfortunate Suzanne still engaged at 
her toilet and as usual getting caught at it. Here is a diversion 
in the way of Andromeda, and here are a few hideous nightmares. 

O ye believers in an all powerful fiend incarnate, a monster 
of cruelty who has looked calmly down through all the ages of 
torture on weak and helpless men, women and children, being 
burned, racked, torn and slaughtered, and has never used that 
supreme power to save an infant from the knife or a woman 
f rom the rack or fire ! What have you to say for your alleged 
" merciful " God ? 

I've seen two pictures of "Let him who is without sin 
amongst you cast the first stone." Now, I like that. Modern 
artists, please copy. Picture a lovely woman prisoner ; a mob 
of angry, disconcerted men ; Christ offering stone. Of all the 
old masters so far, I have seen one truly beautiful one — a St. 
Sebastian with a lovely, lovely beyond conception, face, by 
Guido. Apart from that, Raphaels, Guidos, Titians, Rubens, 
and Vandykes are all, all more or less hideous in subject, 
unnatural as to form and mostly dim and sombre as to color. 
How I do hate to hear people talking about the superior great- 
ness of the past and deploring the degeneracy of to-day. To-day 
is good enough for me. 



196 ON THE SUBJECT OF COLOR. 

The last two days at Rome I spent in going over the same 
ground I had been over, taking last looks at my favorite pic- 
tures ; at the Apollo Belvedere and famous reclining figure by 
Canova modeled after the sister of Napoleon Bonaparte ; and 
between you and me the photographs of many I have seen are 
much prettier to look at. They retouch the photographs as 
they do those of people, and the result is the same — they natter. 
I advise you folks at home to stay there and cherish the pictures 
of famous statues. The pictures are clear, and you get the full 
beauty of outline ; but the statues are patched and ' ' restored " 
and yellow and grimy and chipped. The Apollo Belvedere is 
beautiful, but I still think I have seen modern statues that excel 
it in beauty. 

I finished the Vatican Art Gallery making special efforts to 
appreciate Raphael's Transfiguration and Domeinchino's mas- 
terpiece of the Last Communion of St. Jerome, and found them 
exceedingly fine, only I don't admire pictures of old men at the 
last gasp, or of a crowd of surprised and frightened people, in- 
cluding an idiot boy, gazing up at a man with an exasperating 
beatific face going up into the sky in a blaze of glory. 

On the subject of color — one good reason why modern artists 
don't have the same colors, that Raphael did is that we don't 
have the colors of yore in fabrics nowadays ; at least, we didn't 
until the esthetic craze came in. Raphael paints the white- 
blues, the muddy reds, the dirty browns and faded greens of 
the coarse and imperfectly dyed cloths of long ago. I've been 
seeing some similar to them in the East lately. Even his white 
drapery is of a slaty color. The secret of which is that the 
clothing hadn't been washed for a year or two. I've just been 
there, and I've got the shade down very fine, and so has 
Raphael. 

After taking a last look at St. Peter's I rushed to the Barba- 
rina Palace and took a last look at pretty Madame Potiphar, 
whose painter is unknown to fame, and then looked at Cor- 
reggio's famous " Danai " with scorn for its utter gracelessness 
and want of beauty. Then I hunted up an unknown Venus 
and Adonis, and Psyche, that were lovely, to "take the taste 
out of my eyes ;" then I flew across Rome, past my beautiful 
big bas-relief fountain, past the ancient Forum and most 
ancient Obelisk ; past the Pantheon to the Capitol, where in the 



SORRY TO LEAVE ROME. 197 

picture gallery close by I stood and gazed and gazed at that 
beautiful St. Sebastian of Guido's. I've found out why I like 
it. It isn't a masterpiece ; it isn't famous enough to be put in 
a book of the representative pictures. It's too lovely ; that's 
what's the matter with it. The exqtiisite beauty of that boyish 
face fascinates me. It is at once a beautiful face and a lifelike 
one. I'd like to buy it, then I'd get some artist to paint a Ro- 
man toga on it and an apple or some flowers on a tree above 
his head for him to be reaching for, and have the arrows and 
cords all painted off. If I couldn't have them painted off I'd 
cut them off and leave only the head. 

I stayed there until they closed the gallery, then I stood on the 
top of the steps and looked down on the Roman Forum and be- 
yond at the Colosseum, and said good-bye to Rome. I was 
sorry to leave Rome, with her luxurious hotel and polite at- 
tendants, from the head waiter who used to stand at the end of 
the dining room rubbing his hands and bowing to everybody, 
and smiling as we came in, and whom I cordially hated, to the 
little boy of ten or so, who was porter when the big porter was 
not there. He would rush out when nay carriage drove up and 
hand me out of it with the air of a grand seigneur. Well, I 
have enjoyed Rome all alone, and now good-bye. 

On the train for Florence I found myself in the compart 
ment with a very large English woman who was, like Niobe > 
"all tears." There were a number of people to see her off, 
who endeavored to console her, but the tears flowed on and she 
sobbed audibly. She had a little five year old boy who was leav- 
ing his parents and brothers to go with her to England to school. 
The little boy took matters very philosophically ; put by his 
playthings amiably to "go and give mamma one more kiss " at 
the weeping chaperon's frequent request. "Mamma" did not 
seem to be broken hearted, at least she looked on the parting 
with her boy cheerfully, which was quite right. I was pre- 
paring myself to do a big business in comforting, to listening 
sympathetically to numerous griefs, even to shedding a pitying 
tear or so, if need be, myself ; but lo, once the train had moved 
out of the depot, and we were fairly under way, the storm 
cleared and she suddenly became an active, practical woman, 
whose only thought was to make herself comfortable. Her 
bright, black eyes became fixed in a piercing gaze on the satchel 



198 "THANK HEAVEN, I CAN STILL EAT." 

over my head. She took off lier bonnet, a monument of black 
crepe and wrapped it carefully up and put it in the rack, then 
she took off her cloak, then she reached up after the aforesaid 
satchel, and opening 1 it rummaged until she brought forth a 
wool shawl, then she got the satchel up over my head again 
and fetched down a shawl strap, took out several fuzzy shawls 
and rugs and shook them, covering me with long hairs of wool 
from them, then she arranged her hair and put the little shawl 
over her head and the big one around her shoulders, then she 
had to get down the satchel over my head again to get a pin, 
then she put it up again after a prolonged rummage, and leaned 
back and folded her hands. I took a long breath. She had so 
many bundles that I could not escape sitting under a few of 
them. She had made preparation enough for a week's journey, 
though I knew she would have to do all those things up again 
in six or seven hours to change cars. 

But my long- breath was premature. She reached up immedi- 
ately and fetched down a big valise — also from over my head — 
opened it, and produced sandwiches and bottles of wine and 
bottles of water and immense carving knives. She might have 
said with Gilbert's widow in "Engaged" "Thank heaven, I 
can still eat." In the course of time she and the boy were com- 
fortably stuffed, and then the young table cloths and bottles and 
carving knives were put away, and the black valise laboriously 
strapped and put up over niy head again, and each time she put 
it up and took it down she trod on my toes and knocked my 
bonnet and sprinkled me with wool from her shawl. I couldn't 
get out of the way, because the car was full ; there were three 
other passengers, and the rest of the place was taken up by her 
and her belongings. But I didn't mind ; I was rather amused, 
and then, she always begged pardon politely, which was a great 
comfort. Then the other people got out some lunch. This was 
too much for her. It was only half an hour since she and the 
boy had lunched, but down came the bulky valise again, and 
forth came the young table cloths and the carving knives and 
bottles and bread and chicken, and they took another "square " 
meal. I envied them their appetite ; I'd soon get fat at that rate. 
Talk about children being fussy and troublesome to travel with ; 
that little boy was the tranquilest creature in the car except 
myself. 



FLORENCE. 199 

I get into a train for an all day trip, plank my valise and 
shawl-strap and sun umbrella up in the rack, slip my ticket in 
the opening at the palm of one glove and my baggage check in 
the palm of the other, and a few coppers and a franc or so in an 
outside pocket, so that I need not move more than is absolutely 
necessary to produce these trifles when called upon, and fling 
myself into a corner ; and there I am for one hour or sixteen as 
the case may be. For amusement I look out of the window, 
stare at the passengers, and think unutterable things. I had a 
good deal to think of this time. I hadn't made up my mind 
which hotel to go to in Florence. I had decided to patronize 
Cook's, but Cook had three on his list thusly : "New York," 
"Hotel de 1' Europe,'' "De Russie." lam exceedingly patri- 
otic, but I draw the line at American hotels abroad. " I have 
been there." Besides, I can go to an American hotel when I 
get home. Hotel de Russie sounds too narrow and local too ; I 
want something broader. Hotel de 1' Europe is more general ; 
I guess that's the happy medium for me. So, getting off the 
train, I resolutely resisted the blandishments of about three 
dozen more or less dazzling hotel busses ; I walked past them 
all, noted the brilliancy and newness of the New York "bus," 
and said to myself, "I fear I've made a mistake this time," but 
still walked on till I came to " L' Europe." 

While I was waiting in the rather faded "bus" for my bag- 
gage, the New York dashed by, resplendent in plate glass and red 
velvet and new varnish and lights, and I said, ' ' Irrepressible, 
you are a goose — just as likley as not they don't speak anything 
but Italian at this place, and then what will you do ? " Filled 
with this idea I did not attempt to speak to the porter when he 
opened the coach, nor yet to the manager when he received me, 
so I was quite taken aback when he said in plain English, " Do 
you wish a room ? " I said " Yes," mentally adding, " How in 
the world did you know I spoke English ? " I'm always getting 
put down that way. I say to the waiter at table, "St. Julien, s'il 
vous plait," and he responds cheerfully " Small bottle, Miss ? " 
Whereat I laugh and fall back on my mother tongue. I have 
never been able to rid myself of the notion that French will be 
intelligible to any foreigner. It does not make any difference 
whether I am spoken to in Japanese, Chinese, or Hindoostanee, 
I respond involuntarily in French. " Yive la " intuition. 



200 AMERICAN GIRLS. 

This hotel seems to have lost its equilibrium — the floors run 
down hill, and they are dusty and dingy, but the bedding is 
delightfully clean and likewise the table linen. The attendants 
are exceedingly polite. I was fairly lured into eating through 
the first three courses at dinner, delicious soup, tasty little rice 
croquettes, and O my prophetic soul ! mashed potatoes beaten 
to a froth. The last courses were neglected ; I had already 
dined. There are two prettiest of pretty black-eyed rosebuds 
of American girls here. Whenever you see a pretty girl in 
Italy you can make up your mind at once that she is an Ameri- 
can. English girls have lovely complexions, but they dress 
formally, sit formally, and speak formally. Italian girls have 
pretty, dark skins and eyes, but are coarse and slovenly. 
French girls are vivacious and tasteful. But for elegant dress- 
ing, merry laughter and bright conversation, it takes the 
American girl. 

March 28th. — More good dinner. I have not dined so well 
since those happy days on the Santa Rosa, when I was the first 
to come to the table and the last to leave it. I ought to camp 
here for a week or two, but I'm in a hurry, so I shall leave here 
reluctantly Tuesday morning. There is an unhappy priest here 
who can't eat anything but fish and vegetables. I am perfectly 
gloating over his sufferings ; he is a great unsightly hog of a 
man, anyway ; it would improve him to go without eating 
anything for a month. I left all the street musicians in Naples. 
I missed them so much in Rome that I had to get out my little 
pocket musical box and set it a-going. 

I forgot to say that at Naples the horses or cows, or donkeys, 
were harnessed three abreast ; the saddle of the center one rose 
up like the prow of a gondola, and was surmounted with bells 
and weather cocks. It does not matter whether there are three 
donkeys or one before a wagon,' you can often count from 
twelve to twenty -four people on the wagon at a time. Nobody 
walks who can ride. Boys will run a mile after your carriage, 
offering you a bouquet of roses as big as a cabbage for half a 
franc. In Rome they chase your carriage with small bunches 
of violets. If you won't take them they throw them into your 
carriage and continue to chase for centissimi. If you don't 
want it, you fling it back, and that discourages them a little. 
When you are walking, little bits of boys in green velvet jackets 



SAN MARCO AND THE UFFIZZI. 201 

and knee breeches, with bright coloi'ed strings around their 
legs and hats, looking like miniature banditti from. " Fra 
Diavolo," will come up to you and stick bunches of violets in 
between your buttons or anywhere where they will lodge. A 
beautiful little green velvet, black-eyed bandit of five or six 
years attacked me in this way. 

In Florence guides are as thick as huckleberries. I had five 
following me around one church. I declined to be guided. At 
the third church I succumbed. I thought I'd take one guide 
to drive the rest away and to see if I was benefited by it. I 
have concluded I know just as much about it when I look 
around by myself. There isn't the least bit of use in my being 
told what year a tomb was built in, or how much it cost, or 
who designed it ; I forget it as fast as I'm told. When I do 
have a guide I drive him nearly crazy by asking repeatedly, 
' ' Who did you say designed that ? " and ' ' Oh, yes. " But after 
I've been told three times, I know as little about it as ever. My 
memory is hopelessly defective as to names and dates. Indeed, 
I remember better if I go alone, for I can read the familiar 
names, and they take a stronger hold on my memory. Besides, 
I object to being hurried past all the pretty things because they 
are modern. I insist on looking longer at the despised modern 
and hurrying by the hideous ancient. The guide pities me sin- 
cerely for my ignorance and want of taste. I have made my 
trial and am satisfied to go on alone. 

I go to St. Marco and see the " Last Supper" — two last sup- 
pers, in fact — and wander through the old cells of the monks. 
I come to the conclusion that they were well housed, far bet- 
ter than the people. I have been through the Uffizzi Gallery 
and into its inner sanctuary, the Tribune, which Hawthorne 
calls the richest room in all the world, and have seen there the 
"Venus de Medicis," the "Appollino," the "Dancing Faun" 
and the "Wrestlers," besides the paintings of Raphael, Titian 
and Correggio. And here again I see Holy Families, Mother 
and Child, Crucifixions, St. Sebastian, St. Jerome, St. Bar- 
tholomew, etc. And here, too, I see Joseph and Potiphar's 
Wife, by Raphael, a larger picture than all the others, and 
because it isn't as pretty I suspect it is the original from which 
all the others are copies, though they vary slightly from it in 
minor details, to their manifest improvement. And, look here, 



202 "MARK TWAIN'S" EARNEST THOUGHT. 

some of these old masters are scattered about as recklessly as 
the pieces of the "true cross" and the crowns of thorns and 
"kegs of crucificial nails." I saw Titian's "Maddalena" in 
Rome and here in Florence she turns up again fat and red 
headed and dejected as ever, and I am assured that Guido's 
St. Sebastian is in Milan, although I saw it at Rome. They 
surely didn't spend their time copying themselves. 

And now I find Rubens, Rembrandt and Salvator Rosa. The 
latter I like — he had a fancy for shipping scenes. After seeing 
numerous pictures and statues, Venuses with restored hands 
and Apollos with patched shins, if I may be permitted the 
expression, I walk down the stairs and across the river Arno in 
an inclosed bridge which is lined, from the Uffizzi Gallery on one 
side of the river to the Pitti Palace on the other, with pictures, 
literally papered, from end to end with portraits of the Medici 
family and their friends for centuries back. A good place for 
an actor to study costumes. Amongst all these I am brought 
up suddenly by a pretty picture of a lovely woman marked 
"Gwynne Eleanora, Attrice Inglese" — the beautiful "Nell 
G wynne." From the Pitti Palace I find my way back again 
through the picture tunnel and out through a square that is 
filled with Hercules and Sabines to my hotel. One picture 
that I had liked was of a Venus combing a little winged cupid's 
head with a fine toothed comb and conducting a minute inves- 
tigation in his hair, while he has his head twisted around and 
looks at you expressively over his shoulder. 

I am re-reading slowly and at odd times Mark Twain's " In- 
nocents Abroad," and am filled with a deeper admiration for 
him than I ever had before. He has much more underlying 
earnest thought in his work than I ever gave him credit for. 
He is with me in regard to modern pictures, and his remarks on 
the Mother Church are so good I must quote a passage here. 
Looking at the Inquisition building from the dome of St. 
Peter's, he says : 

' ' Some seventeen or eighteen centuries ago, the ignorant 
men of Rome were wont to put Christians in the arena of the 
Colosseum yonder and turn the wild beasts in on them for a 
show. It was for a lesson as well. It was to teach the people to 
abhor and fear the new doctrine that followers of Christ were 
teaching. The beasts tore the victims limb from limb and made 



THE OVERTHROW OF SUPERSTITION. 203 

poor mangled corpses of them in the twinkling of an eye. But 
when the Christians came into power, when the Holy Mother 
Church became mistress of the barbarians, she taught them the 
error of their ways by no such means. No, she put them in 
this pleasant Inquisition and pointed to the blessed Redeemer, 
who was so gentle and so merciful toward men, and then urged 
the barbarians to love him ; and they did all they could to per- 
suade them to love and honor him, first by twisting their thumbs 
out of joint with a screw, then by nipping their flesh with pin- 
cers, red hot ones, because they were the most comfortable in 
cold weather ; then by skinning them alive a little, and finally 
by roasting them in public. They always convinced those bar- 
barians. The true religion properly administered, as the good 
Mother Church used to administer it, is very, very soothing. It 
is wonderfully persuasive also. There is a great difference 
between feeding parties to wild beasts and stirring up their finer 
feelings' in an Inquisition. One is the system of the degraded 
barbarians, the other are the ways of the enlightened civilized 
people." 

My sentiments exactly. Talk of ignorant barbarity ! The 
studied atrocities that the Catholics and Protestants have in- 
flicted on each other in the past ages, in the name of a " Merci- 
ciful God " exceed everything the world has ever seen in simple 
savage flendishness, and an all-powerful being who has stood 
calmly by and permitted the torture and massacre of his own 
chosen children and chosen prophets, not to mention the thou- 
sands of unfortunate women and children, is — well, he is not 
the kind of a God that I want to worship, and I don't think 
either "merciful" or "just" are exactly the adjectives that 
should apply to him. As for those people who cry out for the 
past and mourn the overthrow of superstition and the advance 
of science and reason, I hardly think they would on the whole 
care to be placed in a world such as this was three or four cen- 
turies back. 

March 30th. — Yesterday I went to the Academy de Belles 
Arts. After wandering through a gallery of the oldest kind of 
old pictures and wondering why, while they were about it, 
people did not pretend that these little Christs and Virgins with 
solid gilt auriole of light around their heads were the finest 
works of art — I caught sight of the word Moderno, on a sigh 



204 BEAUTIFUL MODERN ART. 

over a door, I said, "Modem, that's for me !" and I entered; 
and oh, when have I seen such pictures, such colors that are in 
themselves heautiful ; such figures that stand out like live men 
and "women, and horses, and, above all, such expressions ! The 
old masters do not compare with artists of to- day in lifelikeness 
and expression. I saw one immense canvas representing a 
battle in which every face bore an expression most distinct, 
most natural ; they were living faces. . I saw another picture 
representing a rescue from a flood, in which all the expressions 
of exhaustion, of determination, of anxiety, were depicted on 
the several faces with unerring skill. Another was a great pic- 
ture of many faces and armed men, faces that expressed de- 
mand and determination on one side and hesitation and uncer- 
tainty and deep consideration, on the other ; while the cause of 
it all, the young prince hidden from the others, looks the last 
despairing effort to make himself known to his friends as he is 
forced back by determined men out of the room. Another is 
St. John the Baptist in the presence of Herod, an old story, but 
painted with an effectiveness that the old masters never reached, 
for the old masters knew but one expression, that .of pious 
idiocy. And another picture : a nun in an artist's chair — the 
artist has forgotten his work and is leaning over her with an 
impetuous air, and she shrinking, half frightened, half plead- 
ing, wholly beautiful. I went direct from these pictures back 
to the "Tribune," the "inner sanctuary of the Uffizzi Gallery," 
and looked again critically at the choice collection of Raphael, 
Correggio, and Titian, and found nothing half as pretty, half as 
true to nature. 

I climbed to the top of the Campanile yesterday, the square 
tower of the Cathedral, to get the view, all alone. To-day, I 
started out simply to wander up one street and down another. I 
was looking for marble image shops ; I found them, and gave 
myself up to feasting on modern sculpture. And here, as in 
painting, the modern artists are infinitely superior to the old in 
design, execution and expression. I would not have one of the 
old original Venuses in my house, but I like the statuette copies 
of them pretty well ; they are so white and delicately cut, but 
oh, what wouldn't I give to possess four or five good-sized stat- 
uettes that I saw to-day, most emphatically modem ! First a 
pretty little snubnosed girl sitting on the back of an ostrich, in 



ENJOYMENT OF LONELINESS. 205 

whitest, purest marble ; then a little girl in modern dress, with 
a parasol over her head, looking with delighted face at the 
medal she wears ; next a pretty girl with robe slipping off, sim- 
ply the bathing Venus, but quite modern of face and head, 
and therefore pretty ; then a head of Marguerite with Faust be- 
hind her ; and there was a little Italian boy with a violin ; and 
at another shop was a little girl with a parasol which a high 
wind had turned inside out and torn. The wind had blown the 
child's hair about, and a tear was on her cheek. All of these 
were extremely pretty and natural, and the expressions on the 
faces were most excellently true. The production of beauty and 
truth to nature should be, I hold, the highest art. 

I have enjoyed these two days promenading up one of these 
narrow cracks they call streets, and down another, all alone. I 
have been more alone since reaching Italy than ever before 
in my travels, and, singularly enough this month has passed 
the quickest of all months before, spite of my desperate home- 
sickness. I enjoy loneliness immensely ; roaming streets, wan- 
dering through galleries, sitting silent and self-absorbed at table, 
with no one to interrupt my train of thought and pleasant 
fancy. There is no one to wait for me at breakfast, no one to 
detain me or to hurry me here or there. I am as happy, as 
serenely contented, as one can be and be so far away from 
home and friends, in my absolute freedom of movement. I 
avoid acquaintance. A gentleman next me at table the last 
day in Florence spoke to me in French. One word I did not 
understand. I said, "Je ne comprehend pas." He said, 
" Vous parlez le Francais." I said, " Un petit peu, mais je ne 
comprend pas bien." He said, "Parlez vous 1' Italian ? " I 
said, "Non." " Nil'Espagnol?" "Non." " Ni l'AUemand ? " 
"Non." "NileDeutch?" "Non." "NileKusse?" "Non." 
Silence and disgust on one side and triumphant amusement 
on the other. He gave me up. 

The day of nice young men to trot around with and see me off 
at depots is past. I make no more acquaintances, but the hotel 
managers are always extremely polite, and the porters see to 
my wants. 



VENICE. 

The hotel manager at Florence persuaded me that it was 
more convenient to go from there to Venice at night, as leaving 
Florence in the morning involved rising at five A. M., or 
thereabouts, and I concluded to do so. 

I sat up until nearly morning, but succumbed to sleepiness 
in the last hour. At the last stop before reaching Venice 
the guard after looking at my ticket put the curtain over the 
light to shield my eyes, so I could sleep, he said. "While I was 
dropping to sleep again, as the train moved off, I thought 
' ' That is the first time in Italy that I have seen a thing done 
out of sheer politeness and kindness of heart ; the first kind 
action that was palpably done without the inspiration of an ex- 
pected fee." I was so surprised and touched that it waked me 
up for a while. I fell asleep again just before we drew up in 
the depot at Venice. It had been bright moonlight most of the 
night. We had burrowed through a good many mountains 
by means of tunnels and when we reappeared at short intervals 
we saw deep gulches with little white villages at the foot of or 
clinging to the mountain side. In the moonlight the effect was 
picturesque in the extreme. 

Arriving at the depot in Venice, a porter took charge of me, 
secured my trunks, and, the hotel gondola-bus of the Victoria 
not being at hand, and I having said I wanted to go there, and 
being too sleepy to change my mind, or choose another hotel, 
he put me into an ordinary gondola, trunks and all, and pres- 
ently I was gliding up one narrow street and down another, 
coming out once at the head of the grand canal, crossing 1 it, 
and plunging into a labyrinth of winding canals again, finally 
shooting around a corner and stopping at what looked to be the 
boarded up doorway of a warehouse. We rang and a porter 
came and received me. 

After this mysterious winding through deserted canals, by 
frowning marble palaces, black with age and towering up 
somewhere around the clouds, I was quite prepared to be shown 
up a winding staircase through the bridge of sighs and down 
into a dismal dungeon beneath the water ; but no, once within 

206 



A CHILDISH DREAM REALIZED. 207 

the unprepossessing door, we crossed the entresol and then a 
pretty gardenlike court, into another foyer that looks out on 
one of the fissures they call streets here ; upstairs and into a 
comfortable room. I rushed for the window, but it didn't look 
out on the canal, only down on one of the fissures. I could shake 
hands with my neighbor across the street very comfortably. 

Venice, April 2d. — Another childish dream realized. Since 
the days when I was first taught to read, when part of that in- 
struction was done with the aid of Shakespeare, I have dreamed 
of seeing Venice. Venice — the City of the Sea, the city of rom- 
ance and tragedy ! Nor am I disappointed in the realization. 
Venice, as I saw it first, gliding through the narrow watery 
streets of the sleeping city in the gray dawn of the first day of 
April, the streets, the majestic houses, the water, alike still, 
silent and gray — Venice was mystic and grand. I did not 
think of Juliet or Othello or any of the ancient romances con- 
nected with the city, as people who write books or figure in 
novels always do, but I was very deeply impressed with the 
oddity, the silence and solemnity, of Venice as it is to-day. I 
felt very much like a leaf of modern literature between the 
pages of a volume of centuries ago. 

What a beautiful place Venice must have been when Venice 
was new ; when those great marble palaces, now black with 
age, literally black, were glitteringly white ; but I am not sure 
but I prefer it as it is. It is a sombre picture now, at the best, 
with its gray waters, dark, rusty palaces, and black gondolas. 
Here and there a great domed and statued church shines out 
white in comparison with the grim houses about, but, it, too, is 
dark with age. The statues are blackened with exposure and 
years ; sometimes the faces are quite obliterated by the winds 
and rains and dusts and rusts of time, but they are interesting 
and picturesque. 

These are the narrowest streets I have seen anywhere except 
in the native Indian and Egyptian villages ; there the streets 
are only gutters more or less deep. I haven't had the pleasure 
of walking in them. Here the streets are clean and dry, but 
no sun ever penetrates their depths ; they are like so many 
coverless hallways. There is no real reason for their being any 
wider. There are no horses or cows or camels or donkeys to 
contest the right of way with one here. 



208 IN A GONDOLA. 

I went in a gondola the full length of the grand canal, to a 
little church at the further end (can't begin too soon on the 
churches if I ever hope to finish them). It was a pretty little 
church, with beautifully painted frescoes and marble statues. I 
had the bad taste to admire it more than St. Peter's. St. Peter's 
is so large and cold ! I saw people at the confessional, ladies 
and peasants alike, pouring their sins, or other people's, into 
the ear of the priest. 

My gondolier speaks a little French, and he tells me of all 
the places as we go slowly along. Going back he is put to his 
trumps to know how to lengthen out the hours (I've engaged 
him by the hour). He doesn't know that I am quite content to 
drift slowly and indefinitely about the canals at ten cents an 
hour. He stops at a glass manufactory and wishes me to go in 
and see. I amiably permit myself to be managed, go in and 
admire the painted, fantastic wooden statues, the articles of 
Venetian glass and see the process of making ; buy a trifle and 
go on. Next he fetches up at a lace manufactory. I go in, am 
shown the process of making Venetian lace ; a dozen girls in 
one room, a couple of little six or seven year olds as hard at 
work as the older ones and as adept, with innumerable spools 
and threads and pins to weave the threads about. Then the 
showroom, where my mania for lace takes possession of me, 
and I buy several articles of real hand made lace at about one- 
fifth what they would cost in America. Having got out of this 
shop, I warned my gondolier guide that I had seen enough 
manufactories. He then rowed me to the port of Venice, the 
door of the sea, with a great church on either side. The church 
on the left, as you enter Venice from the sea is very beautiful 
and effective, with its profusion of graceful, nicely arranged 
statues, blistered and weather worn, it is true, and with black, 
indistinguishable faces, but far more artistic in effect than St. 
Peter's. 

To-day I went out on the grand canal again ; investigated 
the two churches at the Porte, glided up behind the Doge's 
Palace and under the Bridge of Sighs and thence forth under 
bridges and around corners until I reached the hotel. In the 
canals, floating, I see bunches of straw, from time to time, with 
an occasional dead rat, which causes me to wonder — do they 
have street cleaning commissioners in Venice, and do they, as 



THE DOGE'S PALACE. 209 

in New York, neglect their duties ? And do Venetians some- 
times complain of too much straw and dead rats, and chop the 
commissioners' heads off? My gondolier pointed out to me 
yesterday the houses of Juliet, Marino Faliero and the place 
where Byron lived while here. 

April 4th. — New sensation ! I'm chaperoning a couple of 
English girls around Venice, I am the smallest and I suspect I 
am the youngest of the three, but I'm the chaperone all the 
same. They arrived here last night. Having been necessarily 
left by their brother in Rome, they are obliged to go home 
alone, and are trying to finish their sightseeing by themselves. 
Until yesterday I was here alone with a little white haired 
English lady, who, while she calls herself thoroughly old 
school, is rather pleased at the novelties of this age of advance. 
She is perfectly delighted with my enterprise, and asks me a 
great deal about my travels, and begs me to make a book of my 
experiences, and says she calls it "wonderful." The two girls 
sitting next me last night, new arrivals, she told of my exploits, 
and I became famous at once. The girls said they wanted to go 
out on the grand canal at night, and did I think it was safe ? 
My bright little old lady opposite had told me it was perfectly 
safe — she had lived here for years — so I said it was ; and they 
asked me to go with them. We went gliding over the canals 
for an hour and a half, while our gondolier sang for us. 

This morning I took them to the Doge's Palace. We went all 
through it, wondering at its pictures — immense battle scenes 
stretching from wall to wall. These frescoes are very beautiful, 
but one ought to stand on one's head to see them to advantage. 
The other pictures are really too big to be pretty or interesting. 
A confused mass of heads spread over the side of a room is not 
beautiful in my eyes, if it was done by an old master. Paul 
Veronese, Titian and Tintoretto are the artists represented here. 
We see the council chamber, or rather several of them, for 
councils of ten, and councils of three, and councils of a couple 
of dozen or so, judging by the seats. We see the hole in the 
wall for the reception of secret accusations — the lion's head that 
used, very fittingly to cover it, is no longer there. The rooms 
suggest nothing now of secrecy, or conspiracy, or dread sen- 
tence of imprisonment and death. Then we go down a few 
steps and enter the Bridge of Sighs, having inspected which we 



210 MASS AT ST. MARK'S 

descend to those dreadful dungeons beneath the water, where 
Marino Faliero and other unfortunates, conspirators or sus- 
pects, lived and were executed almost at the doors of their 
windowless dungeons and consigned to the sea. Having had 
enough of horrors, we went out on St. Mark's Place, after a 
successful encounter with several guides who wanted to favor 
us with their company at the most reasonable rate, from their 
point of view. "We deemed a guide quite unnecessary, and 
went into St. Mark's, to our doom it would appear from the 
disappointed guide's air, alone. 

Mass was going on, so we listened to the music and watched 
the small boys, street arabs, sliding about the tesselated marble 
floors with arms about each other, trying to step on only one 
color and playing about unrebuked ; a vast improvement I re- 
flected on our prim services, where a child must sit up straight 
and be silent, its slightest movement or wandering interest 
being frowned upon severely. As long as a church or mosque 
is free to children, for a play ground it has my admiration and 
approval. 

In St. Mark's Square I saw a quantity of beautiful shell 
purses of all sizes and designs. I'm going out presently to 
"bull the market." I don't know whether that expression is 
correct or not, but it sounds as if it conveyed my idea. I wonder 
how many shell purses I can get through the Custom House ! 
Shell purses and lace will be my ruin yet, but somehow Custom 
Houses have lost their terrors for me. I've been through the 
American Custom House twice, Canadian four times, Sandwich 
Islands once and Japanese twice, Chinese, Javanese, Indian, 
Egyptian, Turkish once each, and finally Italian twice, and they 
say the one at Naples is the next worst to the New York Custom 
House, and that the latter is the worst in the world. So I am 
saving all my terrors for the New York Custom House. I've 
been through all the others successfully, and if I can't get 
through my own native port, I'll give up traveling alone. 
Meanwhile I shall lay in shell pocketbooks and lace, as long as 
my letter of credit holds out. 

I've seen several pretty English girls standing up and rowing 
a la gondolier on the grand canal, while papa looks on admir- 
ingly. Would like to try it myself, but am too lazy. I heard 
a lady at table last night tell a gentleman that Mark Twain was 



MUSIC, PEOPLE AND DOVES. 211 

only a river pilot on the Mississippi, and had never been abroad 
when he wrote the ' ' Innocents Abroad. " She said it was all im- 
aginary. The remark irritated me so that it destroyed my ap- 
petite and made me sick for an hour. 

St. Mark's Square is not far from the hotel. I found my way 
there and back easily enough. There seem to be two Vertices, 
the Venice of streets and the Venice of canals. I found a band 
was playing in the square, where there was a crowd of men, 
women, and children and doves, the doves quite as much at 
home as anybody. I stood about and listened, and promenaded 
with the crowd that marches round the square while the band 
is playing. I saw two pretty living pictures. A little velvet- 
clad girl, the center of a mass of doves with glistening, vari- 
colored necks, at one time, and later a very small, very nervous 
little dog, with a tiny muzzle of leather and a harness of tink- 
ling bells, making wild dashes at groups of toddling doves, but 
the bells always gave timely warning and the doves flew away 
unhurt from each attack. 

Yesterday the officials in the Doge's Palace explained every- 
thing to me in Italian. Though I do not speak Italian, I under- 
stood perfectly well what they told me. At the hotel every- 
body speaks English except the f emme de chambre. 

April 6th. — Yesterday was Easter Sunday, and I went to 
mass at St. Mark's church. There was a great deal of very fine 
music. After it was over I waited through a two-hours' sermon 
in hopes of hearing more music. There are no seats worth 
mentioning in these churches ; the most devout kneel at prayer 
desks or promiscuously about the floor ; other religious souls 
stand patiently through the long service ; the more restless may 
wander about, in and out of the throng. I availed myself of 
this privilege largely. 

The efforts of a pretty fourteen year old girl to look becom- 
ingly devout amused me very much. She moved by with 
downcast head and eyes and preternaturally grave mouth ; the 
new boots and bonnet of a passing lady caught her eye and 
awakened feminine admiration ; she gave them a sidelong 
glance and then withdrew her eyes and crossed herself peni- 
tently. 

Last night we had a royal personage at dinner. He was very 
fair, very speckless and very silent, and very bored. I imagine 



212 GLORY AND FAME. 

he could have been nothing less than Lord Garmoyle or the 
Prince of Wales, but this is essentially a ' ' Cook's " hotel. Does 
H. R. H. travel on Cook's coupons? The peculiar feature of 
Cook's hotels is a well filled house and table one day and an 
empty establishment the next. There was a young man, a very 
young man, here the other day whose loss I mourn. We dis- 
cussed Mark Twain and Gilbert and Sullivan and Mary Ander- 
son. Next to gentlemen of forty who are well past the blase 
egotism of thirty years give me the young man of twenty who 
enthuses over Mark Twain and knows all the latest light operas 
and has seen all the latest actresses, and brings to literature, to 
the drama, to travel, the fresh, unprejudiced interest of youth. 

Venice still, April 12th.— Truly the glory and fame of an 
unusual undertaking is mine. I am making a long stay here. 
People come and go every two or three days, while I stay on. 
I sit demurely at the head of the table looking as quiet and in- 
offensive as I can, but the question always comes around pres- 
ently, " Have I been to France and England, and if not, how 
did I get here from America ? " and presently I am being plied 
with questions and exclamations of surprise, and the attention 
of the guests, from half a dozen to twenty, is concentrated on 
me. All other topics are dropped and forgotten in the surprised 
curiosity about me, and when we adjourn to the parlor one lady 
or another takes occasion to compliment me and question me 
on her own account, and all unite in calling it wonderful, 
like my little white-haired old lady opposite, who is always 
drawing me out and telling newcomers what a wonderful jour- 
ney I have made. 

To me, having been through it, it does not seem so wonderful, 
everything has gone so smoothly. As I grappled with each new 
country I found no actual danger in it whatever ; any woman 
could do it that chose ; so I don't feel as if it were a very great 
thing to have done ; it is the novelty of it that I enjoy, and I do 
look back with a great deal of gratification and happy remem- 
brances on my vanquished countries. Each party that comes 
and goes parts with me reluctantly and admiringly, from the 
two timid English girls, the Australian boy and his grayhaired 
father, to the two tiny little dried-up old English maiden ladies, 
who are doing Italy with such exactness and prim attention to 
detail. I was very much amused when I was telling a girl 



SINGING AND DANCING CHILDREN. 213 

some of my experiences on looking up to find these two prim 
old ladies looking at me with their wrinkled faces all aglow 
with amusement at my stories. They seemed to enter into the 
spirit of it all. 

Venice is very quiet. I've been resting here thoroughly ; it is 
quite cold and rather rainy and cloudy many days. I've seen 
the principal things and have done most of the churches. Most 
of my time has been taken up in hunting for a singularly elus- 
ive band that plays several times a week in different public 
squares. I begin in the morning by asking the waiters, ' ' Does 
the band play to-day?" and "Where?" The first one says 
"No;" the second says "Yes, in St. Mark's Place at half -past 
two ; " the third says, " At the Public Gardens at three ; " then 
I go down to the manager and porter ; they contradict each 
other ; finally refer to a paper and say, ' ' Yes, St. Mark's 
Place." I go to St. Mark's Place ; no music. I return, enter a 
store and, making some purchases, propound my continual 
query to the owner. He refers to paper — "To-morrow, St. 
Mark's Place. " On the morrow I start fresh, putting my per- 
petual question to everybody, finally to my gondolier. All the 
returns are in now, and St. Mark's Place has the whole vote. 
I order my gondolier to repair to St. Mark's Place. No music 
and no preparation. I go back to the hotel. Papers referred 
to again. " Musicat St. Mark's Place." " Go again ; must have 
been too early." I do go again, this time in company of aged 
Australian, daughter and son. No music. I say I am going to 
the Public Gardens to see if it's there. I notice people walking 
that way. My friends, the Australians, have not been there 
and would like to go there too. So we walk along the Riviera, 
I fancy, along the grand canal, and over numerous bridges, 
and at last we bring the fugitive band to cover in the Public 
Gardens. 

I sit and listen ; and observe a barefooted boy of eight and a 
grotesque arrangement of new shoes and hat, with an unknown 
quantity of boy, dancing together. The shoes are offensively 
new and so absurdly large that the portion of boy between 
them and the generous paternal hat he wears is ridiculously 
small. I admire the agility of the bare feet in keeping out of 
the way of the aggressive waltzing shoes. I see two other little 
gamins dancing in a manner that would wring envy from the 



214 THE TOMB OF CANOVA. 

soul of a variety clog- dancer. Music and dancing are born in 
the Italian children. It is funny to hear the mites of street 
boys singing Italian opera instead of the " Mulligan Guards, " 
or "Down in a Coal Mine." From my room I hear the Torea- 
dor's song from Carmen being sung with great accuracy and 
force. I look down on the sidewalk and see a child of four 
warbling away with all his might, until his sister drags him 
into a neighboring house, from within which I still catch the 
clear tenor strains of the dashing " Toreador." 

For several nights we have had excessively high winds that 
tore through the narrow streets, threatening to disintegrate 
Venice and scatter her broadcast on the sea. Venice is a mar- 
velous city. The sea air gives me an appetite again, a good 
thing, for I've been losing flesh for many months. I'm as 
thin, if not thinner than when I left New York, but I've an 
appetite, so I don't mind. 

I leave here, Tuesday morning for Milan. I send my trunks 
from here to Paris direct, and go "traveling light" across the 
Alps. I've almost given up the idea of going to St. Petersburg. 
I want to get home. I feel quite self satisfied about my travels ; 
am quite sure I could do Russia and Siberia and Persia and the 
North Pole and the Soudan if I chose, but have traveled 
enough ; am tired and satisfied and homesick. 

I have done a remaining church or so, and the "Rialto." 
Fancy a bridge of shops ! That is the Rialto. I took particular 
pains to hunt up the church that contains the tomb of Canova, 
designed by himself , because Ruskin called it "Consummate 
in science, intolerable in affectation, ridiculous in conception, 
null and void to the uttermost in invention and feeling. " Having 
seen it, words fail to express my contempt for Ruskin. I shall 
always go and see the things that prominent writers abuse in 
future. I believe the science was there, but did not observe 
the affectation. The conception was too great for a feeble in- 
tellect like Ruskin' s to grasp. It has what the "elegant tomb of 
Titian" as he calls it, lacks, and all other tombs for that mat- 
ter, "invention and feeling" of the most pronounced type. 
There is grandeur in the great conical block of marble, with 
door ajar and guarded by a lion with his head upon his paws, 
tired of watching, perhaps, for the one who had "passed the door 
of darkness through " and would not return "to tell us of the 



SOME UNPLEASANT PICTURES. 215 

road which to discover, we must travel too," as Omar Khay- 
yam hath it. There are a few broad steps upon which, on 
either side the door, are two figures of marble angels or muses, 
with trailing robes and flowers and reverential grief for the 
dead artist — altogether a speaking picture full of suggestion and 
f eeling. It compelled my admiration the moment I saw it, 
and impressed and fascinated me. I saw Titian's tomb, but it 
was so unimpressive I have no recollection of its appearance. 

While I was gazing at and enjoying Canova's tomb, four men 
entered with a guide. The guide planted himself in front of the 
tomb and turned himself loose. He proceeded to shovel out 
information to those four unhappy men. All the poetry and 
repose was lost in a moment. I caught the information that 
the tomb was not designed for himself originally but for Titian, 
and left the field. I went and hunted up the wretched old 
daub, "John Bellini in the Sacristy," which "is the most 
finished and delicate example of the master in Venice." I don't 
want to see the others. While I was looking at some fairly in- 
teresting pictures that were not old masters, the guide tore by 
with the four men in his wake to go into agonies of admiration 
and information over the John Bellini. I returned to Canova's 
tomb to take a last good look, and departed. 

I admire the old Paul Veronese and Tintorettos for their size 
and the work put upon them, if I don't admire their subject — 
the last judgment, with its attendant devils and toasting-forks 
and lakes of fire and writhing victims — not agreeable pictures 
to me, but ones that, it is alleged, give great pleasure and satis- 
faction to the all-seeing eyes of a merciful God and all good people 
who love Him, as well as to people of cultivated artistic tastes. 

I read an article the other day about an English artist, Watts, 
I think, by an admirer of his, saying he had no ambition to 
have his pictures mistaken for real life, as the recent, and, by 
implication, immensely inferior French artists are doing. I 
infer that Mr. Watts can't paint as well as that, but I will re- 
serve my decision until I see his pictures. If they are pretty I 
will forgive him ; if they are only abnormal productions of a 
horrible imagination I will give vent to my scorn. Art with- 
out either nature or beauty is not art, it is nightmare. 

Another look at the Grand Canal and St. Mark's Place and 
church, and I am ready to leave Venice. After a hearty good-bye 



216 VENICE ADIEU. 

from the dear little old white-haired English lady and several 
new arrivals who have just heard that I've heen around the 
world alone and would like to know all about it, and the im- 
pulsive femme de chamhre, who kisses my hand and who would 
like to kiss me, so great is her admiration for me and the " love 
of a bonnet " I 1 ve been concocting in Venice ; and to the man- 
ager who calls my three weeks' tour through Switzerland, Ger- 
many and Holland to Paris a long journey, to whom I replied 
it was not as long as the journey I 'had come, and I therefore 
thought I should live through it — I am put in the gondola, 
the manager wishes me bon voyage, I am rowed through 
quiet, early morning canals to the depot by two gondoliers. I 
take my last look at rusty, blackened, frowning palaces, with 
fierce lion's heads, also frowning most pronouncedly, all along 
their base, and statued churches, and am handed from gondolier 
to conductor — from conductor to porter, from porter to car. 

This is the ladies' car ; nevertheless it is invaded by a beauti- 
ful young man, who begins to make eyes at me before we are 
out of the depot, and his parents. He drops his long lashes for 
a moment, and then, raising them, flashes a perfectly soul-stir- 
ring pair of lovely brown eyes at me with an air of sweetness 
and coquetry that is irresistible. I am fain to smile back at him 
and otherwise encourage his advances, for he evidently admires 
me, and he is the most beautiful two-year-old boy I ever saw. 
His parents and nurse adore him, and I don't wonder at it, for he 
is bright and exceedingly sweet tempered, altogether a most 
adorable child. 

Grand Hotel de Milan, Milan, April 15th. — This is a very 
stylish hotel. I dress and go down to dinner ; meet my Aus- 
tralian friends, father, daughter and son, and am warmly 
welcomed ; dine well, chat and freeze a little in the chill saloon, 
and go to bed. No use, I can't get up early except to catch a 
train. I turn out at eleven, get a letter or so, and start out on 
a voyage of discovery. I wander around till I find the picture 
gallery, the Brera, and fall to enjoying it, but I am in search 
of the famous picture, "Marriage of Mary and Joseph," by 
Raphael. At last after hurrying over some fine large pictures, 
I come to this famous group of piety personified, and fall to 
anathematizing myself for my idiotic haste to see a famous 
picture. As if I didn't know better from sad experience. 



MILAN. 217 

Presently a vista of beauty bursts on my eyes — three rooms of 
lovely modern pictures ! Here's a feast ! Oh, what color ! Oh, 
what woodland views ! What lovely women ! And what en- 
trancing historical pictures ! After I have nearly finished these 
rooms, a women with three girls comes in. I left them study- 
ing Raphael's " Sposeolizio," and other old masters minutely 
an hour ago. They do these three beautiful rooms in exactly 
five minutes to my utter disgust. 

Of course I fell in love with the great Cathedral of Milan. 
It's vastly more impressive than St. Peter's. The tall fluted 
pillars and immense stained glass windows, and absence of 
frills, images and tinsel, make it appear larger within than St. 
Peter's, and without it is certainly the most beautiful thing in 
architecture ever seen, with its profusion of fluted and decorated 
steeples. I climbed up on the roof and took a walk there and 
saw enough steeples there for several hundred churches. Then 
I climbed up to the tip-top of the steeple, and looked out and 
down on Italy at large. I started to count the statues capping 
the steeples and stuck around everywhere indiscriminately, and 
most lavishingly, but gave it up as too large a contract. I 
admired the cathedral the more because the guide book says it 
is marred by incongruous styles of architecture, and I enjoyed 
looking at it because I was allowed to roam from topmost pin- 
nacle to foundation stone without molestation or guide, quite 
alone. 

The Palazzo Reale I found close at hand. Ah, here is mag- 
nificence ! Here is the royal splendor I have been looking for 
in the land of palaces. I was shown all through it by an 
official, who merely stated what things were, and left me to 
form my own opinions. Room after room, with great gobelin 
tapestries, beautiful paintings, and here and there busts ! Here 
are the bedrooms with silken couches, dressing rooms, writing 
rooms, little audience rooms, and big audience rooms, and ball 
rooms and throne rooms, all large, lofty and elegant, with the 
most beautiful polished floors of dark and light woods. 

From here to La Scala is but a step again, and I went and 
took a look at the said-to-be largest theatre in the world. La 
Scala is large and handsome, but I think the New York 
Academy of Music more beautiful. I walk through the 
Vittorio Emanuel and admire the two broad glass -covered 



218 LAKE COMO. 

streets forming a cross filled with brilliant shops. It is in effect 
Broadway under glass with no carriages. The streets are broad 
and the windows gorgeous. I got a cab to take me to the 
Public Gardens and he included the Cemetery, which I had no 
desire to see, and charged it to my account. Then off I start 
for Como. 

I reach Como in the rain, take a hotel bus and drive and 
drive and drive. We seem to have made pretty nearly a com- 
plete tour of the lake before we at last come to a halt, and I 
am shown into the foyer of a most spacious and sumptuous 
hotel, and up a broad, marble stairway to a fresh, cosy room. 
Oh dear ! I think I'd like to stay here a week, a month, a year. 
At the same time I tell the manager that I am going on in the 
morning. I have a nice dinner, the house is warm and my bed 
is like down. 

I wake up early. I think if it rains I wont go ; if it is bright 
I must take advantage of the weather. Out comes a ray of sun- 
shine, and I get up. Meanwhile it clouds over, and when I 
stand on the doorstep ready to depart it rains, but I can't afford 
to get up at half-past six in the morning for nothing. I get 
into a boat at the hotel steps, a boat that resembles a ' ' Prairie 
Schooner," having a canvas covering over so many hoops and 
a well defined backbone, made by a pole along the top. We 
row out to the middle of the lake, and I find that I am to catch 
a steamer "on the fly." The rain pours down and the wind 
blows a squall, and I observe that it is a great deal harder work 
to stay in one place on the water than to go anywhere. 

We scurry around a little in the center of the lake until the 
steamer comes tearing along. Her engines stop an instant, we 
catch hold of the steps as they sweep past and I am snatched on 
to that steamer, my baggage flung after me, and we are off be- 
fore you can say Jack Robinson. I try to see the scenery from 
the saloon window, and failing that, conclude to go on deck. 
Who cares for the wet anyway ? I go out in the driving rain 
wrapped and hooded in waterproof. Presently the rain 
abates, and in less than an hour clears for good. 

I am delighted with Como, more than delighted ! It is beau- 
tiful. I am glad it rains, because there is no glare of light to 
try my eyes, and it makes the grass and trees look so much 
greener and fresher. I'm afraid I've a soul that delights in the 



LAKE LUGANO. 219 

sombre and stormy element. Certainly Como, in all this rain, 
fills me with a perception of its beauty, more vivid than if it 
were bright. I get the sunshine on it later. Did some one say 
the Lake of Como was blue ? I haven't seen any blue about it. 
However, it's lovely. The green mountains that rise from it 
are heavily capped with snow. Here and there one sees a 
little red Swiss chalet among the green. At one place where 
we stopped there was a large wall of red brick with irregular 
pieces of white marble at odd intervals. On the brick were 
painted four windows, and painted in each window a figure, in 
one a girl with a blue dress ; another window contained a 
darkey boy, another a white cat asleep on the white sill, and 
another a cage with some birds. Indeed, all the windows had 
white birds, as if formed by pieces of marble. At the top and 
about the windows, ivy was painted, and creeping vines with 
flowers. In this manner a common brick wall was trans- 
formed into an interesting picture. 

At Menaggio I took a train to Porlezzo, from there a steamer 
on Lake Lugano to Lugano and Pontetressa ; from there a train 
to Luino. Lake Lugano is lovely, too, and of the same char- 
acter as Como, Only wilder. One's eyes are kept busy. As we 
go a beautiful picture is everlastingly opening up before, and 
closing in behind us. We came to a banked up bridge stretch- 
ing right across the lake with only a space where three or four 
arches were left open through and beneath it. I thought we 
should certainly not be able to get around that obstacle. The 
bridge would not take on another shape and let us pass as the 
mountains seemed to do as we drew closer, but lo, a couple of 
men came up and turned a crank and the smokestack or fun- 
nel and steam pipe canted slowly down, folding from hinges at 
the back, till they lay straight out, and we shot under one of 
the arches without slacking speed or swerving a hair's breadth 
from our course ; straightened up again and on we went. 

I'm in luck again ; have fallen in with three Americans, a 
lady, pretty girl, and young man, all going my way, and aw- 
fully nice. 

Lucerne, April 18th. — Why didn't somebody tell me that 
Switzerland was the place to go to get warm. Here I've been 
freezing in central Italy, while there was a tropical country 
up here in the Alps just waiting for me to come and thaw out. 



220 THE ALPS — ST. GOTHARD. 

But that's the way I'm always getting sold. I nearly froze to 
death in Java and India. I'd like to have a personal interview 
with the man who said December was the best month to 
be in India. Yesterday, when the steamer stopped at land- 
ings on the Lakes, it was so hot on deck I was obliged to 
go below. To-day, in the cars, while traveling up among the 
snow-crowned Alps, I nearly melted though sitting by an open 
window. Hereafter, whenever any one tells me it is warm any- 
where I shall take a fur cloak and a pair of snowshoes there, 
and if they say it is cold, a linen duster and a fan. Being 
warm, of course, I proceed to catch a bad cold at once. It has 
no business to be warm, up here, anyway, with snow in sight 
whichever way you look. I have lost all confidence in climates 
forever. 

The nice young man turns out to be the husband of the pretty 
and nice young woman, and the other lady is their mutual 
mother. "We came on together to-day, and if the English 
people who have told me that Americans abroad were loud and 
noisy and bad form can produce a more quiet, more polite and 
innately genteel trio, I'd like to see them. They are good look- 
ing and charming, and a prettier pair would be hard to find 
anywhere. 

We had a glorious day to-day, bright and beautiful, and so 
full of fine scenery that I am literally exhausted with looking 
at it. And of all the wonderful railroads, when it comes to 
tunnels this one (St. Gothard) exceeds everything. Nine miles 
and a quarter of tunnel is a good deal. After one has circulated 
through the interior of a mountain for twenty minutes one 
begins to think it is some considerable tunnel. You not only 
circulate through and around the mountain, but you circulate 
upwards spirally at the same time. While the train goes slid- 
ing along one mountain you look across the valley and see 
three black holes in the opposite mountain, one above the other ; 
and very soon we are taking aim at the lowest hole and pres- 
ently it swallows us. After a protracted boring into the 
bowels of the earth we emerge and skim along the outside of 
the mountain for a while, but before long we shoot into the 
middle hole. Another long bore and we emerge apparently on 
the other side of the globe ; but no, there's that same gulch up 
there, and there is the large stream in the canon below, and 



MOUNTAINS EVERYWHERE. 221 

there are those same little waterfalls up there, and there — but 
we have slid into the third and topmost tunnel. 

Expectancy is at fever heat in the car ; nobody remains seated 
long. We rush from one side of the car to the other to gain the 
glorious view, when outside of the mountains and wonder, 
when inside, where we are coming out next. As we shoot into a 
tunnel there is a universal and simultaneous banging of win- 
dows and when we emerge there is an eager opening on all 
sides, and it is a toss up which side of the car is to be the scenery 
side each time. Sometimes there is a hasty closing of windows 
for the briefest of tunnels and a premature opening for only a 
glimpse of outer day, followed by immediate night. And, oh ! 
the scenery ! Green gulches and valleys, rushing streams and 
waterfalls, a white thread of a carriage road running through 
the valleys and winding around the mountains — and moun- 
tains, mountains, mountains everywhere. 

Alp after Alp rises up with colossal granite sides and snow- 
covered head, and here a snow glacier stretched down a moun- 
tain side, and there is the great land-slide of half a century 
ago. It looks as if a whole mountain had gone to pieces. With 
all the wonderfulness and beauty of the road there are no such 
grades here as they have in Ceylon, where you can actually 
feel the wheels clutching at the rails as the train climbs the 
mountain ; and no such chasms stretching down from under 
your car at dizzy heights, as there are going up the Himalayas 
in India. And the coach road — well, the coach road runs peace- 
fully along the bottom of the valley most of the way. If it' 
runs along a bank six feet high, it is carefully barricaded at the 
other edge with slabs and posts of rock. What the coach road 
does when the train goes into a tunnel I don't know, but I 
am told it is carefully guarded everywhere, and that safety is 
the great feature of travel in Switzerland. It is quite plain you 
can't be permitted to have your blood run cold here ; you must 
go to the Yosemite Valley for that. The glaciers here don't 
look any more startling than a snow bank ; you must go to the 
Straits of Magellan for glaciers. There you may see a piece of 
the blue ocean frozen onto the side of a mountain if you will. 

Switzerland is provided with the best of railway restaurants 
and hotels, at which the service and cuisine are excellent. 
There are the most comfortable of traveling carriages on the 



222 LUCERNE. 

trains and the most polite and efficient stare of public servants 
everywhere. The constant feeing is a nuisance, of course, but 
it is not half so annoying as the lack of porters to carry one's 
handbags and rugs, which we suffer from alike in Switzerland 
and America. I would rather pay ten cents for having my 
two trunks and small luggage transferred from car to carriage 
than attend to it myself. That is all the porter asks and he 
thanks you for it. It is a tariff in some places. A New York 
porter demands a quarter- for lifting one trunk from the pave- 
ment to the carriage. The hotel clerk in Europe does not 
" slide your key to you," as Howell puts it. The hotel manager 
welcomes you when you arrive and bids you "bon voyage" 
when you depart, and he is always ready to give you informa- 
tion or directions, even advice, for which there is no extra charge. 

I find Cook's hotels the best for dining purposes, and if you 
take the second on his list you will get the best rooms they 
have, a first-class cuisine and every attention. Vive la Cook ! 

Lucerne is lovely ; also balmy. I stand on my balcony and 
gaze at beautiful Lake Lucerne circled by snow-covered moun- 
tains. Fancy sitting comfortably out of doors and looking at 
miles of snow while you enjoy the balmy air of Spring. I have 
roamed about Lucerne alone and unattended, even undirected. 
I've encountered German here, and signs indicating the direc- 
tion to objects of interest. I wandered along the quay or 
promenade until I ran across one of these directions, which I 
accepted, and soon found myself at the "Glacier Gardens," and 
the " Lion of Lucerne. " The "Lion" is a great bas-relief cut 
out of solid rock, and the Glazier Gardens are formed of rock 
curiously cut by the action of a glacier. I have gradually 
acquired a taste for churches. I enter one that has some 
pretty pictures. Several women and one man are kneeling on 
the benches and silently praying or counting their beads. I 
think it is rather a good idea ; they come and kneel there and 
reflect quietly in the cool, peaceful atmosphere. There is no 
long sermon which they must wait through ; they can stay as 
long as they like and go when they get ready. I observe that 
most of the men I meet here carry blossoms of Eidelweis about 
them, souvenirs of their climbings, I fancy. The nurse carries 
the baby in a white pique pillow case, with a frill all around 
the edges. A handleless parasol is over the child's face, its 



THROUGH THE BLACK FOREST. 223 

edges touching the pillow all around. You see nothing but 
pillow and parasol. 

Frankfort-on-the-Main, April 22d. — I've been having an 
exciting time of it for a day or two. I left Lucerne at eleven 
A. M. Monday for Strasbourg, my trio of Americans going with 
me until I changed cars at Zurich. There we parted with 
mutual regrets, but hoping to meet again in Berlin. In spite of 
my large experience in traveling alone, the young man in- 
sisted on helping me into the waiting-room, getting all the in- 
formation necessary for me, and charging the guard to look 
after me. Give me Americans, men or women, every time, for 
good-heartedness and helpfulness. Half an hour from Zurich 
I changed cars again. Twenty minutes went by and I changed 
cars again. Presently I became conscious of a couple of wild 
Western cowboys in the adjoining carriage who changed cars 
whenever I did. One of them seeing me struggling along with 
my great shawl strap and little satchel, and having heard me 
ask for the Strasbourg train repeatedly, took my large burden 
and said, "You are going to Strasbourg; so are we, and we 
will try to help you if we can." They did not know me to be 
an American ; they only saw a woman with a heavy burden ; 
and the great American heart, whether it throbs genteelly un- 
der the broadcloth of a fine gentleman or beats in the sturdy 
chest of the rough Western cowboy, can't reconcile its ideas of 
manliness to permitting women to carry heavy burdens if they 
can help them. 

In Switzerland you can only take as much baggage on the 
cars as you can carry yourself ; therefore there were no porters. 
We had left those convenient creatures far behind in Italy. 
The German conductors are very good natured, but they don't 
mind seeing women carrying heavy baggage. It's the custom in 
Germany for the women to do the heaviest work, so they are 
used to it. 

After changing cars "at every gatepost," we had three 
straight hours without change. We were passing through the 
' ' Black Forest " and mountains— literally through them ; there 
were more tunnels than I could keep count of. The country 
was a smaller Switzerland. It was night, but it was moonlight 
and the effect on coming out of a black tunnel and looking 
down a gulch with the glistening water of the Rhine at the 



224 CHANGE CARS FOR STRASBOURG. 

bottom, and a village clinging to the hillsides, white and spark- 
ling under the moon, was beautiful in the extreme. Heidel- 
burg was a valley with mountains on all sides and a mountain 
rising up in the center, half covered with a climbing village and 
crowned by an old castle, while the Rhine sparkled at its feet. 
I stood up most of the time ready to rush from one side of the 
car to the other, whichever presented the most attractive view. 

Then we got to changing cars again ; at first we thought it a 
great nuisance, and then after a few more times we considered 
it monotonous, but when we came to five or ten minutes be- 
tween changes we got to really enjoying it. The cowboys were 
in the car next mine, and we all came tumbling out of our cars 
together and exchanged the time of day, and expressed our- 
selves freely on the subject of Swiss and German railways in 
general and this one in particular. At one station as we met on 
the platform in similar conditions of dishevelment, baggage 
and bad language, the first cowboy said : 

"Well, I've been all over Egypt and the Holy Land, but this 
here*beats my time." 

To which I responded : " And I've been all around the world 
and I never saw anything like it before." 

A silence followed more expressive than words of surprise. 
The wind was all out of his sails. They were going to take care 
of me, but it ended in my taking care of them, for I was the 
first to scramble out of my car and say, ' ' Change cars for 
Strasbourg, " as I passed the window from which they were trying 
to lasso a guard. When at last we reached Strasbourg at eleven 
at night, while one of them carried my heaviest satchel, I as- 
saulted the first uniformed creature I saw with, "Hotel de la 
Ville de Paris," and was promptly stowed within the coach of 
said hotel. They said, "Well, you've found our hotel for us." 
They were " Cook's," too. 

Reaching the hotel, I was ushered into the most sumptuous 
apartment I've had since leaving America. It is an octagon 
in shape, with a soft rich carpet in Vandyke tints ; a magnifi- 
cent great bed of dark wood inlaid with mother of pearl, wash- 
stand and dressing table similarly ornamented, handsome 
crockery, marble-top stove, and luxurious sofa and chairs. The 
feather bed by way of coverlet is no longer a legend ; it is a 
settled fact. I first found it at Lake Maggiore. I have slept 



THE WONDERFUL CLOCK. 225 

under feather beds ever since. I went out in the morning to 
see Strasbourg. At the Cathedral I heard mass, after I got in. 
A man with an official looking cap seized me at the door, and 
trotted me out into the street and around the corner to a picture 
store, where he started out with the aid of a women to enlarge 
iipon the beauties of the photographs of the church. I don't 
know now whether he was a guide or a runner for the store in 
disguise. I had followed him understanding him to say I must 
go to the side entrance to get into the church, he had barred 
my way so peremptorily at the main one, asking me if I wanted 
to see the church. I said yes, and he carried me off. When I 
grasped the situation, I said I didn't want to see the pictures, 
and left, returning to the entrance, found my way in, heard 
mass, admiring meanwhile the granite columns and stained 
glass windows, and had the wonderful clock explained to me by 
a priestly official ; saw the little cherub strike the quarter and 
the child come out, and left to return again at twelve to see it 
go through its greatest performance. When I came back the 
little side-chapel was crowded with men, women and children, 
all watching the clock anxiously. 

Presently the hand pointed to twelve ; old Father Time 
walked past the skeleton, whose business is to strike the bell, 
and entered the door on the other side, while a child appeared 
in the door he had just vacated ; the little cherub on the right 
turned the hour glass the other side up, and the skeleton began 
to strike the bell. At each stroke an apostle comes out of the 
right-hand door higher up, and passing before Christ in the 
center, bows to and is blessed by him, and enters the door on 
the left. When four strokes have been struck on the bell and 
four apostles have been checked off, a rooster up high on the 
left begins to swell up, and emits a very good crow, which act 
he repeats at the next four strokes and the next, and then the 
performance is over. This clock is made to run 999 years. It 
checks off the days of the month, the months and the years as 
they go by, and notes the movements of the planets. 

The journey to Frankfort was rather monotonous, we only 
changed cars twice. Here I went to see " Dannecker's master- 
piece," Ariadne in marble, and found it very pretty. The effect 
is heightened by a softened rosy light, and an air of mystery 
produced by keeping it curtained about. At a picture gallery I 



226 DRESDEN VIA. SCHAUFFANBURGL 

saw some modern pictures. Among others Daniel in the Lion's 
Den, Christ and the Wise and Foolish Virgins, the Prisoner of 
Chilon, and others all modern and fine. I went to the " Pal- 
men Garten," where I heard some good music and watched the 
children. The people and children are all well dressed, though 
the gardens are free. I find Frankfort bright and warm, with 
pleasant streets. 

To-morrow Dresden. 

Dresden, April 24th. — And Dresden it is, though I was 
"away off" in my calculations when I said to-morrow. I got 
up bright and early yesterday morning, got to the depot and 
was comfortably arranged in a car, congratulating myself on 
the company of a couple of Americans, a young girl and a good 
looking man, and that I should be in Dresden at eight o'clock 
P. M. I thought the man looked like Bret Harte. The con- 
ductor came along, examined my ticket, read it all over for- 
wards and then backwards, as all the conductors do ; made some 
jawbreaking remark and departed. The American gentleman 
took my ticket and said, ' ' He says this is a ticket on another 
line ; depot at the other end of town ; train goes at eleven 
thirty A. M. ; takes you twenty-four hours to get to Dresden ; 
change cars every other depot." I say "Oh, dear," and then 
laugh at my absurd misfortunes: 

I drive to the other end of town. I've plenty of time — two 
hours to wait. There isn't anybody about who can speak Eng- 
lish or French. All I can say is ' ' Dresden via Schauffanburg, " 
and the porter says' eleven thirty in choice German, in response, 
and comes after me at that hour and puts me in a car, and I 
start blindly out without the remotest idea when and where and 
how I change cars or when I shall arrive. I should say the 
train stopped at all of the gateposts and some of the pickets, but, 
unfortunately for my simile, there are no fences of any descrip- 
tion in this broad open country ; and how one man can tell his 
plot of ground from the other fellow's I don't see ; but the effect 
of the country being laid out in even squares of different shades 
of green and red is very pretty. 

As the difficulties gathered round me my spirits rose. My 
trains went everywhere, nearly, but to Dresden. I ricocheted 
back and forth between Switzerland and the Baltic Sea all day, 
and every few miles I changed cars. At midnight I was nearly 



A TEDIOUS JOURNEY. 227 

halfway to Dresden, and stopped long enough to get something 
to eat, if there had been anything to get. Beer seems to be the 
only article of diet in this country. I did manage to secure a 
glass of soda water and a roll ; I had seized a couple of oranges 
on the fly, at six o'clock and had kept my spirits up between 
change of cars by eating some candied apricots, I'd been carry- 
ing about with me for a week, much to the distress of the Cus- 
tom House officers, who observed the Italian trade mark on the 
box. The rest of the time the guard and I were trying to come 
to an understanding about where I was going and what station 
I should change cars at again. German fetches me every 
time. I can't understand a word of it. Still I got along very 
nicely. 

I had a car to myself all the way, as traveling first class is a 
luxury few people indulge in in Germany. I suppose it was 
laughable to hear me floundering around in English, French and 
Italian in the vain hope of striking a sympathetic chord in the 
bosoms of the guards. Once a passenger in the next coach was 
discovered who spoke a little French, but then I changed cars 
right away. At midnight while I was waiting in a depot where 
several people were sleeping around, a German woman spoke 
to me. I was sorry I didn't understand, for it was evidently 
something extremely complimentary. 

Before reaching this junction I found the little paper with a 
few German sentences written for me by a German fellow pas- 
senger on the Tokio, in my satchel and committed one re- 
mark to memory. So when I got out of the train I said to the 
porter, " When does the train leave for Dresden," in choicest 
German. I slid it off my tongue as glibly as I could, for I had 
grave doubts as to my pronunciation. To my astonishment 
he understood me at once, and responded, " Zwelf zwanzee," or. 
words to that effect. Although apparently so entirely alone I 
had hosts of friends in reality. What the guards lacked in 
comprehension they made up in politeness, and did the best they 
could to send me on in the right direction. 

Coming out of the depot at 12:20, a gentleman who had a 
limited supply of French told me there was one special car direct 
to Dresden, if I could get it, otherwise I most change once 
more. Unfortunately the special car already contained a sleep- 
ing man ; that would not do. I concluded I didn't mind changing, 



228 A BEAUTIFUL COLLECTION. 

but I wished I knew just when it was to happen. I managed 
to keep just half awake until I changed cars for the last time at 
two o'clock, and then, being assured in German that I should 
change no more and should reach Dresden at eight o'clock, all 
of which I understood by intuition, I went to sleep, after a 
fashion, and arrived at Dresden this morning at eight. Im- 
mediately after breakfast I drove to the great picture gallery 
that gives Dresden the name of the " German Florence." 

I seem to be a good deal of a novelty traveling around here 
alone ; I wonder if it has ever been done before by a woman who 
didn't understand the language. I never get guides, and I never 
go back to the hotel to get information or ask them any questions. 
I just plunge right in to the business of sightseeing and come 
out all right. The funniest thing about it must be the calm, easy 
way with which I do everything. I have been traveling so 
long that I take things perfectly easy. The circumstances that 
surround me never disconcert me in the least. I haven't the 
least bit of fear and am unconscious of impropriety in my 
movements. I get kindly treated always. The guards call me 
Mademoiselle or Fraulein. One thing that amuses me is hear- 
ing gentlemen say : "I had my revolver," or a cowboy remark, 
"I always go 'heeled,' you know." "Fancy my doing what 
many men do not do — traveling in all sorts of strange countries 
alone, at all hours of the night without a defensive weapon of 
any kind. I feel perfectly safe always. 

April 2Uh. — Dresden is well called the German Florence. A 
more beautiful collection of pictures I have never seen any- 
where, save and except that modern department at Florence, 
and that was very much smaller. This gallery contains twenty- 
four hundred pictures and upwards, the guide book says. I 
reveled in it for several hours, till I was put out in fact at the 
hour for closing. This gallery has its noted Raphael, the 
famed Sistine Madonna. It's better than the Sposiolizo at 
Milan. Rubens, Vandyke, Tintoretto and Guido are all repre- 
sented hero, besides many other noted artists. The whole of- 
the immense gallery is more interesting and beautiful than the 
average run of galleries, but the modern department was rich. 
There was some exquisite forest scenes. 

A picture that caught my fancy was an outdoor green room 
of a country circus. A strip of canvas conceals the ring, but 



THE DUTCH SCHOOL OF ART. 229 

above it you see a part of the audience and a man in tights and 
spangles walking the tight rope. The ringmaster is just look- 
ing in to call the next performer on. There is a fire in the 
center, on it a kettle covered with a plate ; some odd potatoes 
around the edges ; a pretty girl in guaze and spangles on one 
side with a cloak around her ; a boy, also in ring array, by her 
side. At the back of the fire the clown sits, holding a baby and 
feeding it with a bottle, in all his ring attire and paint ; and on 
the other side an exceedingly pretty girl in tights, a shawl 
thrown over her shoulders, slightly smiling at the compliments 
of a gentleman with an eyeglass opposite. She is sitting on an 
old trunk. Clothes are thrown about in heaps ; at one side is 
the open untidy dressing case, with powder boxes, rouge and 
implements of " make up," in the usual state, and on the floor 
are piles of unwashed dishes. It is admirably painted. Each 
face is a picture in itself and tells its own story. The girl's is a 
particularly beautiful face. The whole story of the wandering 
showman is told in this picture. The trials, work, poverty, 
slovenliness, cares ; the glory, glitter, glamour, bohemianism 
and romance are all before you. 

The old masters couldn't even paint hair that looked as if it 
grew on the unhappy martyr's head, much less a natural, life- 
like expression — Guido's St. Sebastian always excepted ; one of 
its beauties is the naturalness of its hair. I like the Dutch 
school very well. I saw two small, roughly painted pictures in 
Frankfort that were excellent, though their subjects were not 
pleasant, both being trivial surgical operations, but the attitudes 
and expressions are exceedingly good, from the absoi'bed look 
of the doctor and the sympathetic interest of the woman, to the 
screwed up, flinching face of the victim who wants to see, too, 
and has jumped before he was hurt. The Dutch and German 
artists are exceedingly good at depicting the roughly grotesque. 
A peculiarity of the German picture gallery is the admixture of 
Saints and Bacchuses. There is a great fat knobby Bacchus or 
a St. Sebastian bristling with arrows wherever you look. The 
German lovely woman in pictures runs very largely to flesh. I 
should like to buy up all those horrible torture pictures and 
make a bonfire of them ; they are perfect nightmares to me. 

As I go North it gets warmer at every step, until at last the 
thinnest wrap for walking is too warm. I like Germany very 



230 BERLIN. 

much, and Dresden exceedingly. I should like to live here. 
The streets are hroad and clean, the windows are bright. Music 
and parks and gardens and pictures abound. Everything is 
bright and green and clean and lovely. I've fallen in love with 
Dresden. 

Berlin, Sunday, April 2Qth. — I left Dresden very reluct- 
antly. I skimmed over that great and beautiful picture gallery 
once more, and came' away feeling that I wanted to stay. If 
Dresden is lovely and charming, I have no words with which 
to describe Berlin. Berlin "sees" Dresden and "goes her" 
several points "better." There are no streets like these, no 
monuments and parks like these, no galleries like these any- 
where else in the world that I have seen. O, ye fashionable 
tourists who swarm through Rome and Florence and Italy in 
general, with her dark, dismal churches and chill subterranean 
galleries of dark and gloomy palaces, why not come to Berlin, 
to Germany indeed, where all is bright and beautiful ? Why, 
I wonder, does Italy, the home of art, arrange her treasures so 
badly, in so inartistic a manner and without regard to light. 
Here in Germany they do these things much better. 

I went through an immense museum of sculpture to-day, 
almost entirely made lip of copies of those great originals I have 
seen in Italy ; but so beautifully are they arranged that they are 
far more effective than the originals. The Germans have an 
eye to harmony as well as a practical consideration for light 
and fresh air. So, too, it is about their pictures ; they are 
arranged here in their respective schools, but hung, it seems, 
with reference to each other, so that the dark shades of one 
throw up the light tints of the next. I do not know exactly 
how it is done, but there is harmony ; when you look into a 
room your eye is caught by a vista of color that is a picture in 
itself, instead of being repelled by a lot of dark, square patches 
of different sizes that do not "jibe" with each other — hung 
"higgledy piggledy," one might say. 

These galleries are beautiful ; one is especially well arranged. 
The building is round ; you enter a rotunda, from which walls 
branch off like spokes of a wheel, and on these walls the 
pictures are hung. As the walls come closer together toward 
the center, the pictures are turned towards the windows on the 
outer wall (the tire of the wheel). There are only a few 



GERMAN POLITENESS 231 

pictures on each wall, which is a good plan. There are three 
floors to this gallery, and the rotunda contains some few beauti- 
ful statues most artistically placed. Many of the pictures I 
have seen to-day in these two beautiful galleries were modern ; 
therefore, of course, admirable. I went also to see the pano- 
rama, and then for a drive through these beautiful streets, and 
eventually to the Zoological Gardens, where all the world and 
all the world's family had gathered to hear the band, drink 
beer and coffee and be sociable. 

Where have I seen such a great concourse of people before, 
all so well dressed and all so happy ! Before the music began 
I looked at the "Zoo," and found it admirably arranged, the 
different animals being scattered about in little houses or cages 
here and therethrough the park, and much more commodiously 
caged than ours in Central Park. I was particularly interested 
in a giraffe's attempts to lie down. Lying down is no small 
affair to a giraffe. All those long thin legs have to be folded 
with precision and care. This giraffe folded up one leg and 
considered a little ; then he folded another, and trembled on the 
other two ; finally he got the third ready to fold and commenced 
to bend the joints of the fourth and let himself down. When 
he got nearly down he began to think it was too precarious an 
undertaking for a giraffe, and made one little effort to recover 
his footing ; but it was too late then, the last leg had given 
way, and he was fairly down. I left him wondering how he 
was ever going to get up again. 

Driving back through the Unter den Linden, the great broad 
avenue of lindens that stretches from the Royal Palace to the 
Arch of Brandenburg, I encounter the Crown Prince. Half a 
dozen carriages rush by, with four or six horses apiece, and in 
one is the Crown Prince. I hardly had time to see which was 
the Prince before they were gone. In Italy, whenever a 
strange gentleman bowed to me, I knew he was a Prince, for 
an Italian Prince wears his hat in his hand mostly. German 
Princes are not so polite, I judge. Politeness, however, is a feature 
among the Germans. All soldiers and officers salute each 
other, as well as their superiors, with punctilious politeness. I 
am amused at seeing small boys raise their hats to each other 
and shake hands when they meet— not stiffly and formally 
either, but heartily and genially. I've seen the Emperor's 



232 SANS SOUCI. 

palace and Bismarck's house ; perhaps I shall see Bismarck 
himself. I must say that the active rulers like Bismarck aud 
Gladstone interest me far more than the Queens and Emperors. 

Getting into a big city like this puts .me to my trumps to get 
along alone. My guide-book has failed me at Berlin — does not 
give the names of galleries. I am at a loss. I do not know 
what galleries there are, or where they are, and the city is very 
large. I won't have a guide. I conclude to take a cab by the 
hour, have the coachman told to take me to all the galleries and 
museums in the city, give them all a hasty look, and then, 
having got them located, I can go and take my leisure in them, 
strolling into them casually. This is economy, for the cab costs 
me less than a guide, and I go about with far more comfort. 

To-morrow I am going to Potsdam, the ' ' Versailles " of 
Berlin. The Portier says I must take a commissionaire at two. 
dollars a day ; . he says he can supply me with a responsible 
man, a married man with a family. That settles it ; I'll go 
alone. I haven't been around the world alone to find it 
necessary to travel under the protection of a staid married man 
a distance of fifteen miles. 

April 27th. — Well, I've been to Potsdam, and I not only got 
along beautifully without any guide, but I saw the sights 
without a cabman's assistance. This is how : After half an 
hour in the cars, I stepped out of the depot at Potsdam. Lots 
of cabs there, but I did not know where to tell them to drive. 
I hadn't the name of a place to start with, and my German was 
entirely inadequate to such an order as ' ' Drive me anywhere — 
everywhere." So I started out literally to " follow my nose." 
I saw a park and walked toward it. Passing an omnibus, I 
saw the sign out, "Sans souci." "Oh," I said, "I've heard 
that name before. I'll go to 'Sans souci.' " I got on board 
and gave the conductor all the change he would have, and 
remarked, "Sans souci." He gave me a bit of yellow paper, 
and presently transferred me to a horsecar. The horsecar 
transferred me to another one. Meanwhile I was wondering 
what was " Sans souci," anyway — is it a church or a picture gal- 
lery, or a palace or a lake or — but here I caught sight of an 
archway with a vista of park through it. I said, ' ' Ah, Sans 
souci." The conductor set me down on the other side of the 
arch, and pointed with his finger. I followed the direction, up 



A PROFUSION OF STATUARY. 233 

the street and around the corner, to the park entrance, and 
walked in. 

I noticed a couple in front of me walking the same way. 
Prom time to time they asked people they met, park laborers, 
the way. I gave my nose a rest and fell to following them. In 
this way I wandered along until I came to a circle with a foun- 
tain in the middle and statues all around. Beyond were stairs, 
very broad, and many of them with immense glass greenhouses 
on either side. Seeing my two leaders go up those stairs I went 
up, and there at the top was a balustrade of marble, a plateau, 
and statues and groups of statues everywhere, and beyond that 
a palace, on which was carved "Sans souci." I walked all 
around it — through great semicircular double rows of pillars 
at the back, where I saw a ruined castle or temple-crowned hill 
in the distance. I looked at my leisure then, following the line 
of palaces and greenhouses to the end. Such a profusion of 
statuary everywhere ! None of the palaces seem to be open to 
the public. At one open greenhouse I asked a guard, ' ' Verboten 
der Eingang ? " He said it was. I had picked up that German 
from the signs about. Having seen all I wished, I returned 
through the beautiful park to the archway I had entered by. It 
was very hot, and I had been chasing palaces and following the 
glint of white statuary through the trees for two hours and 
more, so I was tired. 

Passing a little beer garten, I saw two women and a baby at 
a table drinking beer and gossiping, so I walked in and de- 
manded " Ein bier " of the German handmaiden, and "brot" 
and "pretzel," a demand that met an immediate response. I 
let the maiden help herself to silver, and then I sat and ate 
pretzel and drank beer and rested, feeling more thoroughly 
out of the range of my own kind than ever before, and enjoyed 
the solitude and silence of an unknown tongue. 

I then started to follow the car tracks back to the depot, but 
a church led me astray. I went off at a tangent after it, and 
then a great dome lifted up, and I went after that. Here was a 
great square with several large buildings. I was looking for 
palaces and picture galleries, but everything was closed and 
looked unsuggestive of pictures. Opposite the big dome was a 
great building with an archway leading into a court. I walk 
in ; find guards here and there, and see a picture through an 



234 AN AIR OF PROSPERITY. 

open window. I say to the first soldier I meet, ' ' Verboten der 
Eingang?" He intimates not, points to a great door and pres- 
ently a guard comes with keys and takes me in, and it proves 
to be the palace of Frederick the Great. 

The guard shows me through all the royal rooms, with beau- 
tiful polished floors, and carpeted and rugged floors, and satin 
furniture, and agate tables and lovely pictures. Then, having 
feed my guide, who has explained in German very intelligibly 
on the whole, I depart and go around in front of the palace into 
a garden near the depot, and look up at the great palace I've 
been exploring. I sit and rest again in the park, and cultivate 
two German little folks and their mothers. My German is 
coming to me very fast. I can understand as long as they 
stick to such simple remarks as "Wasistdas?" and "Das ist 
besser." Finally, I trip across the bridge to the depot, take the 
train and return safely to Berlin. 

The " Unter den Linden," the beautiful broad street so-called 
from the rows of linden trees inclosing a promenade in the 
center of the street, though lindens are seen everywhere here, 
is lined with palaces ; and indeed Berlin seems to be all palaces, 
so grand are her buildings, and so broad and fine her streets. 
All the palaces are guarded by soldiers ; there really seem to be 
more soldiers than folks here. You cannot look up a street 
without seeing them, singly and in swarms, and you are for- 
ever stumbling on whole regiments of them. 

I saw Bismarck to-day on horseback, pacing slowly up the 
street in dignified and solemn state, followed by a single officer. 

Germany wears an air of prosperity. Not a beggar have I 
seen anywhere. In the cities all appear well-to-do and comfort- 
ably clothed, and the country is one vast fenceless field of smil- 
ing cultivation. How in the world do they tell their land or 
rented grounds apart, I wonder ? There are no fences, and 
every inch nearly is under thriving cultivation. Nor do you 
see any cattle grazing in fields. Where do they keep their 
cattle ? But all looks bright and clean and green and flourish- 
ing, the green fields being intersected only by the white roads 
and varied by here and there a bright yellow plot, and an occa- 
sional red earth plot of newly plowed ground. 

I left Berlin bright and early on the morning of April 29th, 
and expected to reach Frankfort on the morning of the 30th, 



THE RIVER RHINE. 235 

but there is a mistake in my tickets. Leaving Berlin at nine in 
the morning 1 on a train that flew along as far as Hof , I was at 
7 P. M. changed to a train that crept, stopping at every tele- 
graph pole. I learned that I must change cars again at Bam- 
berg at 11 P. M. Arriving at Bamberg, I found I must wait 
at the depot until four in the morning. I said, "Not any, 
I'll go to a hotel for the night." A little old German woman 
who had translated my doom to me, recommended a hotel, and 
herself put me in charge of the omnibus conductor. She had 
been smitten by my charms as soon as she saw me. 

At the hotel, I was shown into a room big enough for a ball 
ground, with a great dining table in it. I found a couple of 
beds in an alleyway leading off from it. As soon as I could 
find my way out of this barrack I rushed downstairs and told the 
landlord I wanted a room, not a barn. So he took me through 
a courtyard and up a back stair, and showed me the kind of a 
room I like, a comfortable single room. In the morning I had 
time to look around a little ; wandered into a church and found 
mass going on — exceedingly pretty music. The church was full ; 
most of the people had just dropped in on their way from market 
and had their groceries with them. I reached Frankfort at five 
that afternoon. Next morning I started for the Rhine. 

I've seen the Hudson River and the Straits of Magellan and 
the Yosemite Valley and the Himalayas and the Italian Lakes, 
and finally Switzerland. I can't gush over the Rhine. One of 
its most interesting features was the wash, which was hung out to 
dry near the villages ; another feature was dead grape vines. For 
about an hour -and a half, however, we passed through very 
pretty scenery — narrow river, banks high, and turns very 
short, and very, very pretty castles on the hills, but the Hudson 
River is good enough for me. And ob ! the difference in ac- 
commodations. Compare this miserable little boat that hasn't a 
place on board to wash your hands, that loafs along this 
stream, to the C. Vibbard or the Albany or the Mary Powell 
in all their comfort and elegance, going from forty to sixty 
miles farther in three hours less time. However, I saw several 
pretty ruined castles that I wanted to buy — castles that stood on 
perpendicular jutting rock and whose ruined walls were over- 
run with green ivy. No, I don't think I shall ever be quite 
happy until I possess a castle. 



236 A DISGRACEFUL TEAM. 

Cologne at last, I visit the famous Cathedral. I had seen its 
"highest steeples in the world" looming up above the city, 
before we arrived. I find it vast, solemn, and impressive with- 
in, with its massive fluted brown columns and stained glass. 
Then I hie me to the picture gallery where I see two beautiful 
pictures, Queen Louisa and a creature with a star on her fore- 
head in the woods, "Iolanthe" I call her, both very lovely; 
then I take the train for Amsterdam. 

And now I must say that as much as I have admired Ger- 
many, the beauty and cleanliness of her cities, the art and 
music to be found there, I like the German people much less in 
their own country than I do in America. The contrast between 
them and the Italians is very marked. All the attention from 
the Italians is with a view to fees, to be sure, but then they give 
you politeness, attention, information and service for the ex- 
pected fee. The Germans are not cordial, they are not atten- 
tive ; on the contrary, they are very neglectful. They won't 
give you any more information than they can help, because 
they want to compel you to take their guides and carriages 
attached to the hotels, and they want to be feed just the same. 
At all the German hotels I found them alike, stolid, neglectful, 
indifferent and difficult to get information from. And then the 
position of women is so low there. 

Women are little more than beasts of burden in Germany. 
Woman carries the luggage and her lord walks on before. He 
may beat her a little if he likes, to correct her. In Germany I 
saw the strangest and most disgraceful teams to be seen in this 
world. In India you see water buffalo teams. In Egypt you see 
sometimes a donkey and a camel harnessed together, but in 
Germany I saw a woman and a cow pulling a plow and driven 
by a man. You see the whole family in the field at times, the 
man and the woman at work, the children helping and at play, 
and the baby in the carriage close at hand. 

The Germans do stare most outrageously. At Berlin, a 
couple of men would stop, seeing me at the other end of the 
hotel, and watch me openly the full length of a long hall and 
join me going down the stairs, with eyes as big as saucers all 
the time. At the depots they were always promenading past 
my window and staring in and staring around from the other 
car windows. The German lady said she did not wonder at 



HOLLAND. 237 

their staring, she wanted to stare too, so I presume I was a 
novelty. 

I was reminded at Amsterdam that it is the "Vulgar Venice " 
by the numerous canals and bridges. I saw the picture galler- 
ies there and then took a carriage for an hour's spin around the 
city, seeing all the great buildings and parks ; but Amsterdam 
is mostly canals. 

I am developing a high opinion of myself as a traveler. I 
consider that I excel most masculine travelers, for I travel in 
all countries without arms to protect me, without Baedecker 
and Bradshaw to inform me, and without boon companion or 
tobacco to console me. 

Having been through Holland I must say I have failed to ob- 
serve the vaunted Dutch cleanliness. Hague, probably the 
prettiest town in Holland, was intersected with canals like 
Amsterdam, the water in which rivaled the Ganges in filth. I 
always had a suspicion that the Holland cleanliness was a 
myth. Now I know it. Still, I felt at home in Holland ; I 
recognized the race I have descended from. 

I reached Hague from Amsterdam at three in the afternoon, 
and learning that the picture gallery was open I went to it at 
once. This time I was not disappointed in a famous picture. 
Paul Potter's " Famous Bull" is exceedingly good. Its worth 
lies in its extreme truth to nature. It is a lovely landscape, 
with a bull and cow and sheep in the foreground, and a farmer 
looking cautiously around from the other side of the fence and 
behind a tree. A little bird is flying down on the opposite side 
of the picture. Flies are standing on the bull's back. His ruf- 
fled hair is perfectly painted, while the eyes of both animals 
wear the lustre and intelligence of life. The farmer's face is a 
picture in itself. In this gallery I see Murillo's Madonna, and 
— no, I won't take it back after all — many of the paintings of 
the old masters are daubs, nothing more nor less. Rubens' and 
Titian's Madonnas have hands that look, positively and without 
exaggeration, as if they had been through machinery, so 
distorted and twisted are the fingers. A small painting of 
Rubens' looks as if the paint had been put on with a tooth- 
brush, for it lies in swirls and streaks and knots, making 
Suzanne's streaked and lumpy red-and-white limbs look any- 
thing but enticing. 



238 A PLEASANT REMINDER. 

After the gallery I go to the "House in the Wood," the resi- 
dence of the late "Queen of the Netherlands." It contains a 
Japanese room and a Chinese room, and has Japanese and Chi- 
nese things scattered about generally. A small boy takes me in 
hand, and reels off several yards of information, all of which I 
have happily forgotten. The rooms, however, with their em- 
broidered Japanese tapestry, representing Japanese figures and 
scenery, the lacquered and inlaid screens and articles of furni- 
ture, take me back in memory to the East. The Japanese 
tapestry is a wonderful arrangement of silk and birds' feathers. 
The ballroom is very slippery as to floor, and pictured as to 
walls, all the pictures being representative of the State in 
various phases. A gallery in the center of the ceiling was 
designed to contain musicians. The ' ' Wood " was very pretty. 

I drove back on the most aristocratic street, and presently 
passed the establishment of the kind friend I met in Java, Mr. 

Van . He is the son of an ex-Prime Minister of Holland. 

His father, a midshipman, was, when a boy, expelled from the 
navy for leading a mutiny, and went to Java, where he rose 
to rank and wealth and returned to Holland to become Prime 
Minister. Of all the friends it has been my good fortune to 
make, no one has been more courteous than he. He is a most 
accomplished man. Only thirty years of age, he speaks many 
languages, has been around the world, to America twice, and is 
the author of a novel. He is still in Java, upon his plantation 
there, and I shall probably never meet him again ; but the recol- 
lection of his kindness will always remain a pleasant memory. 

I departed from Holland very much depleted in pocket, for 
my ancient countrymen are the worst in Europe, I believe, 
when it comes to fleecing the unhappy traveler. I am tired of 
Dutch pictures and dirty canals. 

I arrived at Antwerp to find it bedecked with flags from cen- 
ter to circumference on account of the " Exposition," a World's 
Fair going on there. I went first to the "Museum." Some 
tremendous pictures are there. One is so big that it is hung hi 
sections. Most of the pictures were of the crucifixion order — a 
regular chamber of horrors. I came out of it, sick from the 
sight. Happily, there were two or three pretty pieces of sculp- 
ture with which to rest my eyes — modern sculpture ; one, a 
woman with a sleeping baby on her knees, and oh, how perfect 



PAINTED HORRORS. 239 

Was that little sleeping face and form, from the backward drop- 
ping- head and half parted lips that almost breathed, to the little 
feet, held as only a baby holds its feet, with palms turning 
toward each other. And then there was the marble figure of a 
crouching girl, laughing saucily up at some one, while Cupid 
hid beside her knee, laughing too. 

I went to the Cathedral and got bored to death by a guide 
who took possession of me, and thence to the Exposition, which 
was opened last week, but is far from ready for visitors. It is 
a regular carpenter's shop. Opened and unopened boxes are 
everywhere, and the sound of the hammer is heard throughout. 
The Italian section was nearly finished, and Florence had a beau- 
tiful display of statuary. I saw aguin much that I had seen while 
there. I spent a good hour looking for the United States depart- 
ment. Canada was there, and Brazil and Paraguay, but no 
United States. I was told finally that the United States had a 
section, but nothing had come yet for it. I did, however, see a 
packing box that hailed from Ne W York . What is the m atter with 
my country that she does not appear at this "World's Fair ? " 

The "Beaux Arts " building, close by, is a part of the Exposi- 
tion, apparently, though detached and requiring a separate 
entrance fee. Here, too, everything is confusion and hammer- 
ing. Nearly half the rooms are not yet opened to the public, 
though active preparations are audible from within. This is the 
picture department, all modem, and O my soul, what pictures. 
"Vive la Moderne," say I ; the beautiful landscapes of Summer 
and Winter, the humorous and pathetic stories told with the paint 
brush, the exquisite forms and faces of women and children. 

But here, too, is the one great fault to me of all picture 
galleries, heightened by the realistic touches ' of the modern 
painter's brush — the frightful pictures of martyrdom and 
crucifixion. Wherever you look, the eyes and brain are seared 
and the soul is wrung with the painted horrors of religious his- 
tory. I turn away and try not to see, for I know they will 
come back to me at night and haunt me with their misery and 
the knowledge that it has all been suffered even as it was 
painted. But the hideous nightmares will start up and confront 
me from every side till I am ready to cry aloud against the 
church and the religion, under whose auspices such diabolical 
savagery grew and flourished. 



240 



BRUSSELS. 



I am getting so that I fairly dread going into a picture 
gallery, there are so many pictures that I have to hurry by 
with a shiver and a sickening heart for the miseries of the 
past — the past that so many people bewail being past. Ah, give 
me the present, deterioration and all. I do think that the 
pretty pictures and the dreadful ones might be kept separate. 
If I had my way, I'd collect the dreadful ones and make one 
vast bonfire of them, or keep them apart only to show the 
rising generation what vile and wicked things have been done 
in the name of Christianity. At present the galleries are unfit 
for the eyes of women and children to see. 

Back to the hotel. "My bill, please, and a cab, and send up 
for my luggage, " and I am off for Brussels. It is cold and it rains. 
I shall give Brussels two days, and then — Paris. In Antwerp I 
had a pink satin lace-covered feather bed for a coverlet. I have 
passed through two more Custom Houses within a day or two. 
But Custom Houses have ceased to have any interestf or me. I am 
saving all my terrors for New York. New York — how I pine to 
see it again! I do want to snatch a look at Russia, but oh, I 
am in such a hurry to get back to "my own, my native land." 

Brussels, May 8th. — Yesterday and to-day I have prome- 
naded Brussels hour after hour, getting lost and finding myself 
again at regular intervals. Brussels is a very fine city. In my 
walks I am lured on constantly by the vision of great buildings, 
monuments, and parks. After rambling around through a 
park, I catch sight of a magnificent building at the end of the 
Rue Roy ale. I start for it, past palaces with coats of arms em- 
blazoned on their fronts, to see this most splendid building of 
them all. At last I stand in awe before it — it must be the King's 
palace, I think.' I ask the guard who patrols before the gates 
if it is permitted to enter. Yes. I enter and it proves to be the 
new Palais de Justice, and very fine it is. 

In my wanderings I have found the Museum, and seen the 
pictures. I might go into the palace of the Prince of Orange, 
but a fit of timidity seizes me. I am tired and I've seen so 
many palaces, and I am sick of hearing the tiresome explana- 
tions of the lackey in attendance. If they would just let me 
walk through and admire ! I have the strongest repugnance to 
knowing when pictures were painted and who they were pre- 
sented to, and the finest of palaces do not compare in luxurious 



INFANTILE JOY TURNED TO TEARS. 241 

comfort with an ordinarily well furnished New York flat. 
The rooms are like so many barns of polished wood, but for the 
pictures. There is a bed, and a gilded chair or two, and occa- 
sionally a sofa lost in the shadows of a perfect wilderness of a 
room. They are absolutely wanting' in the ordinary comforts 
and conveniences. 

I am lost in admiration of some of the folks at the table d'hote 
here. There is a pretty, fair haired, winsome, light hearted girl 
with a sombre, handsome young husband. I am perfectly fas- 
cinated by the melancholy beauty of his dark eyes and drooping 
mustache and straight, dark brows. But why doesn't he laugh 
when she speaks to him so laughingly ? 

I left Brussels in company with a Countess and her two 
children and two nurses. The two little ones, both babies, 
were as cunning and lovable as if they were of only ordinary 
plebeian blood — too active and joyous, in fact, for their rank. 
So they had to be snubbed and hushed and crushed at last into 
silence, their infantile joy turned to tears, by the mother and 
two nurses. The oldest was only two years old, and it was 
very charming to hear him talk French and tell his ' ' Petit 
Soeur" about the "Chemin de fer," which he abbreviated into 
" Min de fer," which is French baby talk for steam car. 

Why can't people let children alone when they are happy and 
quiet, I wonder. This little boy's only desire was to stand and 
look out of the window, perfectly silent and absorbed in the 
flying scenes before him. But no, he must sit down, he must 
eat, he must drink milk, he must go to sleep, he must " come 
and kiss mamma," and his "Petit Soeur," he must do anything 
and everything but what he wanted to do, and then when he 
got nervous and excited and cross from the demands on his 
attention, he must be punished into silence again. Good 
heavens ! all I ever wanted of children was that they should be 
tranquilly interested in any quiet amusement. All this officious 
diversion of children is on a par with waking the baby up to be 
looked at and kissed by a visitor, a practice most objectionable. 

I found the country very flat in Holland and Belgium. The 
level, open country is divided into fields by intersecting canals 
and ditches, and the cattle are permitted to graze at will. We 
passed another Custom House, but ignored it entirely, as no 
one insisted on my giving it any "attention. 



PARIS. 

Paris, May 14th. — At last we reach Paris, and after passing 
through the depot door, where two soldiers thrust bayonets into 
my shawl strap and satchel, I was confided with my baggage to 
a little fiacre by the customary porter, and driven rapidly 
through the streets to the Hotel Binda. 

Paris, the long talked of, much praised and greatly sighed for 
Paris ! And here I am at last, reaching it almost at the end of 
my travels instead of commencing with it, as I had always ex- 
pected I should do. To how many praises of this great city have 
I listened with somewhat cynical ear. 

I arrived here Saturday night. The next morning was 
cloudy, so I slept off the fatigues of thirty days' continuous, 
active traveling. In the afternoon I started out to find my 
points of the compass. My dear little guide book contains a 
map of Paris. I consult it, and decide to go first to the Jardin 
des Tuileries and walk thence to the Arc de Triomphe. The 
lady cashier of the hotel tells me how to find the Jardin and 
says there is a band playing there. I depart, and by dint of 
alternately following the cashier's directions and my nose, I find 
the Jardin and the music. Music very unsatisfactory — band 
plays mere snatches of valse or opera a few seconds and then 
stops ; effect, jerky and disjointed. I wish they would play 
something through just once. Large crowd ; seat, 20 centimes 
(4 cents) ; standing room free. 

I walk up the beautiful but crowded avenue, the Champs 
Elysees, to the Arc de Triomphe, climb the Arc itself, and 
standing on its top, look down on Paris, down on the avenue 
I've just traveled, on the Avenue de la Grand Armee, opposite 
on the Bois de Bologne, black with hurrying carriages, and on 
the numerous roads converging like spokes of a great wheel, all 
pointing to the Arc de Triomphe, the "hub" on which I stand. 

How many people have described Paris to me and yet failed 
to bring home to my mind any real idea of its beauty. I find 
the Tuileries to be a lovely park with groups of statues under 
its trees, and that the Champs Elysees is another park divided 
from the Tuileries by the Place de la Concorde^and with the 
342 



A BEAUTIFUL CITY. 243 

Avenue de Champs Elysees running through it. The Place de 
la Concorde is an open circle with a fountain at each side and 
the inevitable obelisk in the center, and the broad avenue 
Champs Elysees, broader than any other street in the world, 
save the Unter den Linden at Berlin, extends on to the Place 
de l'Etoile, another open circle with all the broad avenues of 
Paris converging to it, with the stately Arc de Triomphe in its 
center, looming up so tall that it can be seen not only from the 
opposite extremities of these streets, but from the country round 
about. 

These broad, clean avenues are all teeming with life and as 
full of activity all day as our Broadway. Each avenue pre- 
sents a vast concourse of carriages. There are plenty of parks 
in Paris and bands of music in many of them, but no park to 
compare with our Central Park, which is really the finest in the 
world. 

I don't feel like shopping, but must get new dresses right 
away, for I am nearly in rags. A new dress, however, requires 
due deliberation. I don't know what I want. Here in the 
center of fashion I have no soul for dress. Dressmaker, stay- 
maker and milliner, all call on me and leave their cards, usually 
before I am up. I go and torment Cook's about Russia and my 
trunks, sent from Venice by the line misnamed "Le petite 
Vitesse " which I translate, "the little quickness," which does 
not describe the line accurately, for my trunks were sent some 
thirty days ago and have not arrived yet, and Cook's agent 
knows as little about them as he does about Russia ; and having 
driven him to the verge of distraction, I leave him and start out 
on an exhaustive chase after the "Column of July" and the 
site of the Bastile. 

I walk the Rue de Rivoli from end to end, see the imposing 
Tour St. Jaques, the famous Hotel de Ville, and the renowned 
church, Notre Dame. The yearly Salon is in full blast, with 
its display of modern art. I say to myself, "You had better 
finish the old masters first." 

Filled with the wisdom of this course, I start for the Louvre 
in the morning, but oh, the idea of modern pictures is too much 
for me ! I pass by the Louvre into the Tuileries and down the 
Champs Elysees to the Palais de 1' Industrie, and entering, find 
myself in the famous Salon. At first I look hopelessly down 



244 THE SALON. 

the vista of pictured walls and say, ' ' I'll have to take several 
days to this," and then with the idea that I am not going to try 
to see it all, but only a room or two and have plenty of time, I 
begin and take each picture in its turn. There are no pictures 
to skip here. 

Thank heaven, the day of crucifix and torture pictures is on 
the wane. In all this vast gallery I see but very few of that 
school, and the few are modified in their dreadfulness. When I 
say a vast gallery I mean vast. The Palais de 1' Industrie is a 
very large building. One does not know where to begin or 
when to stop. These pictures beggar description, one must see 
such things to realize them. My pen is not equal to the occasion. 
I lived in an atmosphere of loves and graces and cupids, 
Psyches, Mary Magdalens, Houris, Angels, Nymphs, Sultanas 
and other lovely feminine creatures, including St. Anthony's 
temptress, and beautiful forest and water scenes, for five 
mortal hours, and then found I had just finished the Salon. 

The crucified Saviour and St. Sebastian and John the Baptist 
appear in modified forms here and there, but the blighting 
horrors of St. Bartholomew and St. Agatha are not to be found, 
while the stories of the mythology are represented only for 
their beautiful figures and romance. After I have finished all 
the other galleries I shall go back to the Salon for a last look, 
for such an array of modern art I never expect to see again. 
I left the Salon at half -past five. 

For two days I had been roaming the streets of Paris, had 
wandered where I listed, quite undisturbed, utterly unnoticed 
as far as I could see, which was something of a surprise after all 
the stories I had heard about the constant annoyances a lady 
walking alone in Parisian streets was subjected to. But my 
time had come. As I walked hastily through the Tuileries I 
became conscious of the close proximity of a gentleman. As 
there was plenty of room to walk and few people it occurred to 
me presently that he kept unnecessarily close. So I quickened 
my already rapid steps. The gentleman did the same, and pres- 
ently addressed me in French, intimating that as I was alone he 
would be happy to accompany me. I turned and gave him one 
half surprised, half -frightened, comprehensive look, saw that 
he was a genteel looking, well dressed man, then gave him the 
best view I could of the back of my head, and quickened my 



THE LOUVRE. 245 

pace. He raised his hat as I looked at him, and followed a few 
steps, in a discouraged way, and then departed. As long as I 
can silence impertinence with a glance I shall get along. 

The next day I went to the Louvre, but I was not equal 
to five straight hours of the old masters. I waded through 
the old department, however, and shall go through it again. 
Some of the immense pictures were very beautiful. I wandered 
through acres of Rubens, Guidos and Murillos. Rubens par- 
ticularly has a room lined on either side with immense can- 
vases. I went looking for the ' ' most beautiful human face " 
belonging to the Virgin in Murillo''s Immaculate Conception. 
The Virgin's face is very lovely, but unfortunately it falls far 
short in human beauty of one of the Mary Magdalens by Guido 
in the same room, and his St. Sebastian in Rome, and indeed 
many faces in modern pictures. This Mary Magdalen by Guido 
has a similar face to the St. Sebastian, which is to me the 
loveliest face ever painted. Having finished the old department 
of the Louvre and wandered through the museum and seen the 
old snuff-boxes and card-cases with pictures of Marie Antoi- 
nette and Napoleon and Josephine, and the jeweled saddles and 
armor of the dead and gone French Kings, I departed, leaving 
the modern department of paintings for another day. 

May l§th. — "Writing is next to impossible. Paris swarms 
with sights and dressmakers and shops, and the hotel swarms 
with American ladies. I had a dream once of coming to Paris 
to learn French, but English is the current language here. 
The waiters decline to understand my French and insist upon 
my putting everything into plain English. 

I have been falling in love again with a pretty woman, a 
woman with a sixteen-year-old boy. I never saw such a lot of 
women together ; the hotel parlor is full of them in the evening, 
and what a gay social time we do have, without a man around 
to disturb the serenity. We all of us talk nineteen to the dozen. 
They tell me where to go, and go with me. We go in feminine 
groups and platoons to the theatre, opera, concert, wherever 
we like, "Cafe Chantant" even. I got my lovely, dark-eyed 
charmer and another lively little lady (who has taken me under 
her wing) to go with me to see Bernhardt, and, last night we, 
with the addition of an elderly lady, went to hear Judic. The 
price of seats is very high in Paris, away above New York. At 



246 BERNHARDT. 

these two theatres, the Port St. Martin and Des Varieties, they 
charge $2.60 and $2.40 for an orchestra chair or seat in the 
balcony. At the varieties we reduced the price to $1.60 a seat 
by taking a box. 

I was rather disappointed in Judic, having heard a great deal 
about her. She is very large and passee, but has a sweet voice 
and face ; sings in the usual tremolo style of all French sing- 
ers. Our Lillian Russell surpasses any French opera-bouffe 
singer I ever saw, in voice, execution and beauty. "When it 
comes to the latter charm, I would pit her against the world. 
Unfortunately, the play I saw Judic in was not "Nitouche," 
but a very ridiculous comedy. Judic introduced the songs that 
I have heard my French maid Maria sing many times before I 
left home, " Pionit " among them. 

I was charmed with Bernhardt. The role of Theodora suits 
her to perfection. She acted here as I did not see her act in New 
York. I fancy she felt under some little restraint in New York ; 
partly that, and partly the order of the play, prevented her throw- 
ing herself into her art with the abandon she displays here. 

Theodora is beautifully put on and exquisitely played. All 
through it is a perfect harmony of scenery and action that fills 
one with a perception of the story, even if one doesn't under- 
stand the language it is told in. And Bernhardt ! Well, 
Bernhardt is incomparable. Without beauty, without figure, 
old, worn and thin — uttermost extreme of thinness — she was 
the living embodiment of grace and beauty — beauty of the 
delicate, fragile type, with an inseparable aroma of youthfulness 
and purity linked with a perfectly thrilling chord of intensity 
and sensuousness. The glance of her eye, the tones of her voice, 
the swaying of that lithe figure as she stood or walked the stage, 
were revelations of passion and sensuous grace. 

You have to buy your programme, which, however, is a 
programme of all the theatres in Paris, and each seat is provided 
with a little wooden footstool, which is an unmitigated nui- 
sance, and which the usher, who is a woman, comes and 
demands sous for at the last "entre act." These women are 
excessively insolent up to that time, when then* animosity 
towards you relents until they get your twenty sous. They 
want you to leave your cloak in their charge, and they put 
your ticket in their pocket and decline to show you your places 



PARISIAN THEATRES. 247 

if you demur, and harangue insolently about defrauding them 
of their perquisites. We wanted to keep our wraps because 
they were light and we might need them. The woman got out 
of all patience finally, as we did not understand readily, and 
gave us our seats. We noticed then that nearly everybody 
kept their wraps. How they got through the clutches of the 
shrewish usher we did not know. " France is the politest 
nation in the world." I am in danger of forgetting that. 

My great terror here is of getting run over. There is a con- 
tinual rush of carriages, drays and omnibuses through these 
wide boulevards and avenues. A coachman never holds up for 
you. On the contrary, he will whip up and drive right at you. 
I believe they try to run over you. You have to pay a fine of 
twenty-five dollars for the privilege of being run over, I am told. 
It is a luxury that only the rich can afford. As the result of a 
fearful accident some years ago, there is now at the conjunction 
of avenues a morsel of curbstone, by way of refuge, in the center 
of the streets, where you may stand when half-way across and 
watch your chance to complete your traverse. 

Parisians know less about their immediate surroundings than 
any people I ever saw. You may inquire for a large establish- 
ment next door, almost, and they will be entirely ignorant of its 
whereabouts, even its existence. Yes, there is plenty of polite- 
ness over here, but you are expected to pay for it. How glad I 
shall be to get back to a country where politeness and good 
nature are not a marketable commodity. Look at the elegance, 
comfort and convenience of our theatres ; the polite and 
efficient corps of ushers, who take your checks, turn down your 
seat and return your checks to you with a neatness and 
dispatch very much needed over here. Look at our comfort- 
able seats and handsome curtains. Look at our beautifully 
decorated, well ventilated theatres, with their fine orchestras, 
rich colors and many means of egress. Here no orchestra 
plays the choicest morceau between the acts. The curtain in 
first class theatres is a vast advertising sheet; the seats are 
cramped, and you pay a fancy price for them ; the air is 
suffocating ; you must buy a programme containing little or no 
information ; you are discouraged at every step, insulted by 
furious women, and you must pay sous constantly for each 
fresh annoyance, 



248 AN IMPORTANT PERSONAGE. 

Americans have the name abroad of being very patriotic. 
And so we are. We ladies gather in the parlor every night and 
hold a regular convention of patriotism. Yes, we like Paris ; 
Paris is adorable, we could live here a year or two ; but what 
can compare with America — American customs, American com- 
forts, American amusements, and American people ? Nothing, 
absolutely nothing. Every American heart warms to a com- 
patriot abroad, and looks away ahead to the time when pleasure 
trips will be over, and we shall set foot in the dear native land 
once more. I would, however, like to take this beautiful 
" Salon " along with me. 

There are many American girls and ladies traveling together, 
leaving the busy husbands and fathers at home. The hotel is 
full of such. The two or three gentlemen here are seldom 
seen ; their wives and daughters dine alone. The most im- 
portant personage of this establishment is a small boy about a 
dozen years old. He calls himself the groom of the house. He is 
the actual manager. He runs the elevator, carries packages and 
ice water and letters to the rooms, gives orders, receives mail and 
distributes letters, attends the door, runs errands and gets cabs for 
the ladies, is omnipresent, always happy, always polite, always 
attentive. He rejoices in the name of Archie and hi the admira- 
tion of the ladies. Having once heard a lady's name, he never 
forgets it and always addresses her by it. His especial delight is 
to enter the salon with his hands full of letters and look all about 
for absent ladies, while he sees the outstretched hands and hears 
the pitiful ' ' O Archie, none for me ? " on all sides. He feels 
his importance then, and is as gentle with us as he can be. This 
child is never rude or cross, but is ready to run his little legs 
off for any lady in the house. We go to Archie for everything 
and he never fails us. His responses are always cheerful, 
polite, complete, and reassuring, which is more than can be 
said for many older people in similar positions. Our only 
anxiety is the fear that he will grow big and disagreeable. 

Another feature of the house is the happy little married 
couple who act as " Boots " and " Femme de Chambre ; " who 
perform their duties together and do their ' ' billing and cooing " 
on the stairs and landings, and who are as contented and happy 
as it is possible to be. Then there is the lady whose husband is 
usually drunk and abusive, and the handsome young man with 



VERSAILLES. 249 

the gray haired, aged wife. Shopping and gossip are the prin- 
cipal features of the hotel. The salon and galleries are quite a 
secondary consideration. Each new comer must be stared at, 
criticised and canvassed. 

I made the mistake of going to Versailles with a party. The 
excursion proved to be a scramble from car to carriage by a hand- 
ful of people of diverse views and antagonistic opinions — a very 
unlovely lady being the evil spirit of the party. I never saw 
any one so gifted in the matter of being disagreeable without 
intending to be so. If we started to take a carriage, she had to 
be personally satisfied of the time and distance going, the fare, 
and usually thought some other way or place would be better. 
When we went into a restaurant she thought the one next door 
was better, and continued to express this view throughout the 
dinner. She is perfectly helpless and dependent, will not travel 
a step alone ; but, having joined a party, wants to run it, and 
whisk the members about, omitting things that she has seen 
before. 

She hurried us through the main palace at Versailles, and the 
officials hurried us through the others, so we got but a glimpse 
of the Palace, the Grand Trianon and the Petit Trianon, with 
their beautiful pictures and rooms filled with historical interest, 
the charming gardens where Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette 
used to disport, and the stables where are the old carriages and 
sedan chairs used in the days of royalty, which are gorgeous. 

Going out to Versailles we took seats on the top of the car, 
where we could look across the lovely country we were flying 
through, and see the majestic Arc de Triomphe towering grandly 
above Paris, miles and miles away. Returning, we got a 
drunken cabman, who drove us like mad through the streets, 
shouting hilariously, occasionally, and nearly depositing us in 
the street at every turn. 

A trip to the " land of the midnight sun " is my latest project. 
I was talking in the parlor the other day about desiring to go to 
Norway, Sweden and Russia, and the pretty lady that I'm in 
love with said she wanted to go too. The "American Ex- 
change" folks evolved some information about Russia, and 
finally a man rose up in the hotel parlor and said he had just 
been to Norway, Sweden and Russia, and gave such a glowing 
description that we said we must go or die, and then a lady 



250 MAPPING A ROUTE. 

turned up whose sister had gone way up to the Arctic Circle and 
seen the " midnight sun." I want to see the "midnight sun,'' 
too, so does the lovely lady. So we have agreed to go together. 
Our present plan is somewhat mixed. It includes Copenhagen, 
Christiana, Bergen, Throndgiem, and the North Cape, thence 
down to Stockholm and across to St. Petersburgh ; thence to 
Moscow, Warsaw and Vienna, and back across the Alps to 
Paris. The trip offers the most fascinating experiences in the 
way of glorious scenery and drives across the country. Mean- 
time, we see Paris and study Baedecker and maps. 



LAND OF THE MIDNIGHT SUN. 

Copenhagen, Denmark, June 8th. — After much excitement, 
discussion, tribulation, indecision, doubt and hurry, we finally 
got away from Paris on the night of the 4th of June. In those 
last days there were dressmakers to be attended to, last sights to 
see, passports to get and trunks to be packed. 
- I have been warned all the way around the world of the 
necessity of passports in Russia. "We received two of those 
articles so startlingly imperfect as to make it necessary to send 
them back. Then we got them "vised." We had a man, the 
husband of my traveling companion, to look after our tickets, a 
practical man of the world whom I did not care to contradict 
or be fussy with. And we had a courier to take charge of us to 
the depot. We paid very dearly for permitting this masculine 
interference. To please this superior, common sense creature, I 
agreed to go on the evening train instead of the morning. This 
involved a sleeping car, some other extra charges and a differ- 
ent train still at the last moment. I wanted to go a second time 
to the American Exchange, receive my tickets and have them 
explained to me, and then draw my money with some idea of 
what I should need ; but being a mortal coward I consented to 
draw first and have my tickets sent me at the hotel and " have 
no trouble about it," as the superior man called it. In conse- 
quence I drew more money than I wanted, in an inconvenient 
shape, got our trains all mixed up, and didn't know anything 
ahout my tickets or where they took me, or how, until after I 
left Paris — not to mention the extra expense for sleeping car 
and an additional payment for the privilege of going first class, 
as second class tickets had been sent me. So much for the in- 
terference of the stronger sex. Having got out of reach of that 
influence, we shall go along easily and comfortably, and have 
no more mistakes. 

We reached Cologne at eight in the morning. There we had 
to wait till one o'clock, so we went to the Cathedral and heard 
mass sung, then took a little drive, getting back and taking din- 
ner before starting again. It was a blazing hot day in Cologne. 
We got to Hamburg at night — half -past nine. 

251 



252 HAMBURG. 

We were charmed with Hamburg. Our hotel overlooked a 
lake bright with lights and dotted with boats. Hamburg is 
intersected with canals, like the cities of Holland. We left 
next morning at nine for Copenhagen, going three hours by 
rail to Keil and taking the steamer there for Korsor. Six hours 
by water and then four hours again by rail to Copenhagen, 
getting to the latter place at ten at night. We don't think we 
shall need to go much farther to reach the "midnight sun." It 
is daylight now from half -past three A. M. till nearly nine P. M. 
We have been traveling together four days and have not quar- 
reled yet. I am desperately afraid the lovely lady will not want 
to travel at my rate of speed. It was quite understood between us 
before starting that we both wanted to get back by a certain 
time. She is very amiable and pleasant, but given to wander- 
ing from the bee line to the North Pole. She lays plans for 
stopping a few weeks at some nice place and resting and having 
her husband come over to Norway. I listen and say, ' ' yes," and 
' ' how nice that would be, and then I could leave you there with 
him while I went on up to the North Cape and you could return 
if you were tired of the trip." And then she laughs and pro- 
tests her determination to keep up with me. I expect I shall be 
obliged to leave her one of these fine days in some pretty place 
she can't tear herself away from. Meanwhile, having abso- 
lutely wrenched ourselves away from Paris and rushed through 
Hamburg, we find ourselves stranded in Copenhagen until 
Wednesday afternoon, and having, therefore, plenty of time, 
and being naturally lazy and fond of each other's society, we 
stay in the house most of the time and talk. 

My first experiences in traveling with any one to talk to in 
foreign countries is somewhat interesting. We take it for 
granted that no one we see traveling can understand English, 
because nobody we ask questions of does, so in the cars we talk 
on together, utterly regardless of the presence of others. Some- 
times our talk should be quite confidential ; sometimes we are 
led into making remarks about our fellow passengers, relying 
upon their evident German birth. It is somewhat embarrassing 
after you have ridden five or six hours in the car with a girl 
who is German from the tips of her toes to her hair, if anybody 
ever was German, and you have been talking recklessly about 
your private affairs, not to mention having shouted across the 



DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH? - 253 

car to your companion, ' ' Just look at that girl ; did you ever 
see such vanity?" "She seems to admire her own hands 
very much." " Got some new bracelets evidently . " It is quite 
embarrassing- after having done all this, to have that girl turn 
round just at the end of the trip and speak to you in first-rate 
English. It is embarrassing, too, just when you've been telling 
a little experience that you don't tell everybody, to have the 
Dutchest of Dutch women in the other corner lean over and ask 
you in irreproachable English if this is the first time you've ever 
been in Denmark, and then have her Danish husband join in the 
conversation. We conclude we will hereafter ask everybody we 
see if they speak English before we indulge freely in conversa- 
tion or comments. And we are not discouraged from this 
course by a gentleman's response to the question, "Do you 
speak English ? " given unhesitatingly and with mirth in his 
eye, " I ought to — I'm an Englishman." 

At the hotel here we were offered a bill of fare that is as in- 
telligible as Chinese. "We picked out a word that looked pro- 
nounceable, and inquired, "What is kyling ?" The man did 
not know the English, so he flopped his arms by way of reply, 
by which we inferred " ky ling" meant bird or chicken. It 
proved to be. the latter. This is the hardest language I've come 
across yet. There is no getting one's tongue around these 
words. Copenhagen is spelled " Kjobenhavn." The streets here 
are of cobble stones. Sidewalks are the same, marked off from 
the street only by a narrow strip of paving stone. Copenhagen 
doesn't offer much in the way of sightseeing. We go to Thor- 
waldsen's Museum and take a long drive by the sea, which is 
rather pleasant. Copenhagen is built in gray stone mostly, 
and a red brick structure stands out with a lurid effect from 
the quaint and sombre houses about. 

Christiana, Norway, June 11th. — We started out on this 
trip in a hurry and it was going to be put through in the 
briskest manner. All our friends begged of us at parting not to 
"rush so." And many were the remarks about the folly of 
dashing through countries and not seeing anything. Well, we 
tear along at a breakneck pace as far as Copenhagen, and then 
we calmly sit down and wait four days for a steamer. 

It had been very gloomy during our stay in Copenhagen, and 
we sailed from there in the teeth of a gale in the ramshackliest 



254 • didn't ask to be excused. 

tub of a steamer on the line. We sat on deck while it got 
rougher and rougher. We were not going to be seasick — oh, no, 
we were never seasick. One by one the passengers went below, 
and every now and then some rash creature rushed to the side 
of the vessel, and finally the force of example became too much 
for us. My friend became a victim. I was hopping around 
very gaily, laughing and chatting, but suddenly "a change 
came o'er the spirit of my dream." I didn't ask to be excused, 
I just rushed madly below, and gave way to the emotions that 
overcame me. I went back on deck directly. I was afraid 
some one would think J was seasick, but pride and determination 
availed me not. I was presently rushing for the rail and hanging 
limply over it without sufficient energy to get back again. My 
friend was torn between two emotions meanwhile ; she was con- 
vulsed with laughter at me, and at the same time horribly sick 
herself. She says she never saw such a limp creature in all her 
life as I was. I hung over the rail as if I were a rag hung out to 
dry. She asked an English gentleman, who had been sympa- 
thizing with us, to watch me so I wouldn't fall overboard. 
He came and took one of my limp arms and wound it around 
a stanchion. Then it began to rain, and he escorted her into 
the saloon, and returned saying he had strict orders to bring me 
in at once. I didn't care about the weather just then. I'd just 
as soon it would rain as not. But as he persisted, I made one 
effort and got into the saloon, dropping into the corner of the 
lounge just opposite my friend ; and there we spent the night. 
We did not need our stateroom. It was nice and cool here, 
and everybody else had gone below, and our English friend 
advised us that it was in a horrible state down there, and so we 
wisely kept out of it. A woman came in the course of the night, 
and planked herself down at my feet, so I couldn't stretch out 
all night, and a man took up a similar postion at my friend's 
feet. Seasick? I never was so seasick in all my life. This 
rickety little tub of a boat, sloshing about in a choppy sea, 
brought me to a pass that the hurricane down at Cape Horn 
might envy. I couldn't raise my head. I couldn't open my 
eyes or speak when our kind English friend came and looked at 
me. I rolled off the sofa at intervals, and after the vain effort 
to "throw up my immortal soul," I lay flat on the floor until I 
could gather sufficient strength to climb back on to the lounge. 



NO USE FOR CANDLES. 255 

I was just able to say to my friend, "I love the sea, don't 
you? Never happier than when at sea ; traveling by water is 
infinitely preferable to land, isn't it ? " These had been our 
stock remarks for weeks. We had pined to get to sea. When 
we felt a little better we exchanged compliments and laughed 
convulsively over our difficulties. Towards morning I created 
a diversion by flying off my lounge across the saloon at a sudden 
lurch of the vessel, and dropping unceremoniously down by 
my friend with my head resting against her blanketed lounge, 
I inquired how she felt. I lay there while we both laughed 
ourselves into hysterics, and finally crawled back to my couch. 

Coming up the Christiana Fjord we gradually recovered and 
bur English friend called us to come and see how pretty the 
harbor was. We came and looked. My lovely lady could not 
resist a patriotic comparison to America. It spoiled his pleasure 
at once. He said he was disappointed dreadfully. He thought 
it was beautiful when he was here before. He felt quite an- 
noyed at it for not looking as beautiful as he thought it would. 

We are in love with Christiana. The streets are beautifully 
clean, the air is delightful. It is ten o'clock at night now, but 
daylight yet — no use for candles here. We sail to-morrow 
night for Ekersund. 

Laerdalsoren, Norway, Junel8th. — We left Christiana on 
June 12th on the little coast steamer Lindholmen, stopping 
£-1 at Christians / tt'nd we went ashore and took a carriage through 
the village to look at a park, which proved to be pretty and to 
contain a lovely fountain that produces the impression of a cas- 
cade at a distance. The park was shut in from the shore by a 
lofty granite mountain. It was between ten and eleven o'clock 
at night, and it seemed very curious to see children out playing 
and people enjoying a woodland picnic at that hour. It was as 
light as we have it in Summer at 7 P.M., and it gets no darker 
during the night. We hang our shawls — if the curtains are 
not dark — over our windows to make night enough so we can 
go to sleep. 

We passed through some very pretty scenery, sailing in be- 
hind rocky islands sometimes, and sometimes coming out on 
the open sea, until we reached Ekersund. Here we took a 
train across to Stavanger, which gave us an opportunity to see 
what manner of" country lay behind that lofty granite coast. 



256 MAGNIFICENT SCENERY. 

There was a succession of peat beds. The soil was swampy, 
and where cut into ditches earth and water were perfectly 
black. Black bricks of peat lay out on the ground loosely and 
in piles, drying for fuel. And they need it, I should think, for 
wood seems to be a scarce article. Along the coast one sees 
little but granite. It is the stoniest country I ever saw. The 
fields remind me of Jerusalem as to stones. Jerusalem fields 
are worse than these, but here the granite towers on every 
side. 

Sailing along the coast it appears very much like the Hudson 
River, only that river's banks are rich in verdure. Here little 
but moss and the most insignificant shubbery finds a foothold 
on the banks of solid rock. 

We reach Stavanger from Ekersund in four hours, arriving 
at eight P.M., just in time to miss the steamer for Eide, which 
we meant to take. No one at the hotel could speak English, 
but we discovered that no other steamer was going to Eide until 
two days later. As this was not the sort of hotel that we 
cared to stop at so long we determined to return to the steamer 
we had so recently left, we having crossed a spit of land which 
it was rounding, Stavanger being its next stop. Meanwhile, 
we were put into a parlor with a bed in it and a piano. The 
lovely lady went immediately to the piano. Unfortunately it 
fell to pieces under her hands. A boy came in and put it 
together again, and reprimanded us for smashing furniture. 
We tried to be good then till dinner was ready. We were the 
only ladies among about twenty young naval officers, but we 
were used to that. We were the only ladies who came to the 
table on board ship. 

We were welcomed back aboard the steamer. The next 
morning we were still sailing among rocks. A double row of 
granite mountain islands shut us in completely from the ocean. 
The water is perfectly smooth and undisturbed, I should im- 
agine, by any tempests, the mountains forming a perfect barrier 
and protection, and making it in effect a river. The scenery 
grows grander and bolder as we go north. 

Reaching Bergen, we fail to find it particularly attractive. 
Everything is fishy. You eat fish and drink fish and smell fish 
and breathe fish. The bill of fare is made up of it, the water tastes 
of it, the air is full of it. But I must say another word about the 



BEKJENDYORELSESBOLAGET. 257 

water. All through Norway the water is the softest, most deli- 
cious water for bathing. The skin grows softer and smoother 
under it daily. Holdt's hotel proves to be very "dirty," as we 
were told. Nevertheless, being tired, we are glad to get into a 
room again, and rest until the following day, when we depart 
for Vasse Vangen. 

The railroad lies along the fjord (river) and the scenery is 
beautiful — similar to the Hudson, but finer, I think. The hills 
and palisades and valleys are beautifully green and fresh. Our 
admiration is greatly excited by the length and intricacy of the 
Norwegian words. We make frantic efforts to read the 
advertisements at depots. We find words that we cannot pro- 
nounce without taking breath between the syllables. We 
attempted to write down one tremendous word, but the train 
moved off before we could half write it. We were ready for 
it at the next station, though, and succeeded in getting it all 
down in black and white on the long side of an envelope. 
Here it is, "Bekjendyorelsesbolaget." We are far too wise to 
try to pronounce it. Norwegian "gets" us. That's just the 
kind of a word they perpetrate here all the time. It makes us 
tired to hear them. 

Getting to Vasse Vangen after four hours of beautiful scen- 
ery, we find our hotel, situated in a pretty valley. We stop 
there over night, but don't get to sleep as quickly as we would 
like, owing to some large-footed, exuberant Englishwomen, who 
prance on the bare floor overhead and talk loud and laugh 
shrilly and call to friends in the adjoining room, which causes 
us to reflect that we have been told that Americans abroad are 
so "loud" and " noisy" and "bad form" generally, and we 
wish some of the English people who have aired this opinion 
and told how quiet and sedate and decorous an Englishwoman 
always is were here to observe. 

In the morning off again for Gud Vangen. Seven hours in 
a cariole, a two- wheeled cart, drawn by a horse and driven by a 
small boy who sits behind us and drives, peering between our 
shoulders at the horse. Indeed, the tiny boy who is driving 
two gentlemen in another cariole has to stand on his toes and 
crane his neck to get a glimpse of his horse. Happily the 
horse knows the way, for our boy gives us the greater part of 
his attention. Through a beautiful, winding valley, green and 



258 NERO FJORD. 

broad, whose sides rise up around us in fresh, green hills and 
granite walls, we climb to the top of a mountain, where we 
take dinner. 

Leaving our half-way house we descended the mountain by a 
spiral road into the loveliest of lovely valleys, with a cascade on 
either side, and then drove up the valley to Grud Vangen, where 
we took the little steamer Laerdal, and sailed up the Nero 
Fjord. 

This fjord or arm of the sea is perhaps from half a mile to a 
mile wide. A solid granite wall rises up straight out of the 
water on each side — five, six, seven thousand feet. When I say 
straight, I mean it literally. There is not the smallest vestige of 
a ledge or bank or foothold, from the bottom of the fjord to 
some thousands of feet overhead. There are no trees or shrub- 
bery, but the rocks are partially covered with beautiful, tender 
green moss and lichen. The water is six hundred feet deep, 
deeper than the North Sea, they say, in places, and as green as 
grass from the shadow of the moss-covered granite walls. One 
seems always to be within a lake without outlet or inlet. The 
fjord windings are so sharp that you appear to be completely 
walled in with granite. It is, without exception, the very finest 
water scenery in all this world and the grandest. The inland 
sea of Japan, the Rhine, the Hudson River, and the Straits of 
Magellan are all small compared with these magnificent heights. 
My companion, who is very f amiliar with the Rocky Mountains, 
and others who have seen the Colorado River, say this is infin- 
itely more grand. The Yosemite is the most beautiful valley in 
the world, and stands second to the Nero Fjord in stupendous 
grandeur, but it extends only eight insignificant miles. The 
Himalayas excel in tremendous heights and vast valleys, but 
Norway exceeds everything in lofty heights of solid rock. It 
isn't merely in one place, it is everywhere. The whole seacoast 
is bound with it and the rivers are cased in it for miles and 
miles and miles, at the stately heights of from three to eight 
thousand feet. It even surpasses Switzerland. 

Traveling in Norway is very pleasant, because of its variety. 
You drive along beautiful valleys skirting the foot of majestic 
mountains until the end of a road, then take a steamer to the 
end of a fjord, and then return to the cariole, and so the land 
and water travel supplement each other. 



TRAVELING IN NORWAY. 259 

Returning- to Gud Vangen at four A. M. in the rain, we 
found our small boy with the cariole waiting for us. We 
breakfasted, enveloped ourselves in galoshes, waterproof shawls 
and veils, and started back to Vasse Vangen. Four o'clock in 
the morning isn't as dreadful as it sounds. It is broad daylight 
and people are about. We have a long mountain to climb on 
foot, for our one pony is not equal to the occasion. As we climb, 
we keep looking back at the beautiful valley with the waterfalls 
on either side and the river coursing through the middle, until 
our tyrannical small boy, who can't speak a word of English 
and won't let either of us drive, finally permits us to get into 
the cariole again, while he clambers up behind and drives. It 
rains very hard. We stop for an hour at a half-way house, 
where no one deigns to come near us, and when we at last un- 
earth some folks in the kitchen, they cannot understand a word 
we say. Finally the girl summons a young man from some 
distant place who understands us, and to whom we confide our 
woes and desire for hot tea. My cup of tea goes into the interior 
of the small boy, who is evidently deeply offended with us for 
keeping him waiting so long, but who recovers his cheerfulness 
under its benign influence, and shakes hands with us both by 
way of expressing his satisfaction. 

Handshaking is the "thank you" in this country. When 
your porter is satisfied with his fee, he shakes hands with not 
only the feeist but every one in the party he represents — just as 
we say "thanks," the French "merci bien," the Italians 
"gracia," and the children of the East touch their foreheads to 
you. It is rather amusing to have the man who simply trans- 
fers your baggage from wharf to boat, hold out his hand and 
give you a friendly shake. I noticed, however, that he does this 
after looking at his fee. We start out again in the rain, but it 
clears off in an hour, and another hour brings us back, damp 
and rheumatic but jolly, to our hospitable hotel at Vasse Van- 
gen at noon. We undress, get into wrappers, send our 
rugs and shawls to dry, have a fire, order dinner sent up to lis, 
and fall asleep before the maid gets out of the door. We sleep 
sweetly ten minutes, when the maid comes with our dinner. 
We get up and stuff ourselves and go to sleep between bites ; 
call the landlord and make arrangements for next day's trip, 
and go to bed — sleep four or five hours, get up and eat supper, 



260 A CURIOUS CUSTOM — TO THE NORTH CAPE. 

and go back to bed and to sleep again until next day at eight or 
nine, when we get up feeling as if we could still sleep twelve 
hours or so more, and depart at two o'clock in the rain again 
for Eide, where, after dinner, we take the steamer up the Har- 
danger Fjord to Odde. 

The Hardanger Fjord is said to be of a warmer, softer char- 
acter than those we have seen, but we find it tamer and colder. 
It is still beautiful, but not so grand. A glacier can be seen 
now and then, although it lies farther south than the Sogne 
Fjord. Odde lies right at the head of the fjord, and there are 
many walks and drives from it. We, however, think we have 
seen the finest of Norwegian scenery. 

A curious custom here is that of charging only half price for 
a woman who 'is traveling with her husband or father, or for a 
young man who is traveling with his mother or father. When 
I want to travel with a family I shall go to Norway. 

Trondhjem, Norway, June 26th. — We arrived here last 
night on the Trondhjem, the dirtiest of dirty little boats. We 
were pleasantly situated near the pantry, which was full of 
various varieties of cheese, including the fragrant ' ' Limburger." 
The steward and stewardess sat at our door and brushed shoes 
and buttered bread. When we wanted to get out they rose 
hastily, clasping shoes and slices of bread to their bosoms, 
while we gathered our garments about us, steering clear of 
the blacking box on one side, only to catch the butter plate on 
the other, or fall foul of the dishpan full of dirty dishes and 
water. We did not go to our room often, once we got out 
of it. On this trip up the coast it rained most of the two days it 
took to make it. 

When I left Paris my objective point was the North Cape ; 
my ambition, the midnight sun. Through all weathers I have 
clung to my desire, but my comrade began to hesitate as soon 
as we were fairly on our way. The rough water and bad 
weather from Copenhagen materially diminished her love of 
the sea, and the long days have effectually cured her of any 
lingering desire to see the sun at midnight. She does not want 
to go to the North Cape and wishes me to give up the trip. We 
have had our little tiffs from time to time, and then laughed 
them off, reminding each other of the remark a lady at the 
Paris hotel had made about parties she had seen start out so 



ARCTIC CIRCLE. 261 

joyfully and lovingly and return bitter enemies for life. 
Perhaps we shall share the same fate. We have just been 
down to see the steamer. She is lovely, clean and new. The 
weather prospect is fine, and the round trip takes eight days. I 
am delighted. I have stated my determination to go on her to 
the North Cape. My friend is to decide in the morning whether 
she will accompany me or not. 

The great trouble in this country is to know when to go to 
bed. It is almost midnight now, and the sun is still ' ' setting 
around," just below the hills ; the sky is beautifully red and 
yellow. No use for gas or candles. I've got to hurry and get 
to bed before the sun rises. 

June 27th. — The choice is made and the die is cast. After 
breathing defiance at each other for twenty -four hours, we at 
last went down and bought our tickets, secured our state- 
room. It is as nice and elegant as possible. We have a large 
ladies' saloon all to ourselves, there being two ladies' saloons on 
board. Ours is the larger. It occupies more than half the width 
of the ship, with sofas on three sides and a center table. The 
lovely lady yields gracefully before all this comfort and elegance 
and the knowledge that the steamer is going to make the trip 
quicker and be back here sooner than the wretched little coasting 
steamer we expected to go on. This is an excursion steamer 
only. It has lots of accommodations, but only about twenty-five 
passengers have engaged, so we shall not be crowded. It goes 
to Lofoden Islands, Hammei'fest, the North Cape and other 
places of interest ; time of trip eight days ; price seventy-five 
dollars, " every thing included — except champagne." 

Steamer Haaken Jarl, off Tromso, July 1st. — We are 
now within the Arctic Circle. The Arctic Ocean is separated 
from us by the usual range of rocky islands. To-night the sun 
will stay with us all night. Last night the sun only set for 
half an hour. The scenery sailing through here is fine, but not 
as fine as the fjords. It is not very cold here — not cold at all, 
we find, when the steamer stops and we go ashore. Two-thirds 
of the mountains about us are covered with snow, but the bases 
and valleys are beautifully green. We stopped at Bode, day 
before yesterday, long enough for us tourists to go ashore and 
climb up and look through a natural tunnel in the mountain. 
We find pleasant fellow tourists on board — an English lady, 



262 LAPLANDERS. 

and two American gentlemen. Chess and whist have come 
into play again. We have also on board some German and 
Norwegian people ; a stout woman who sketches and the author 
of "The Land of the Midnight Sun," Paul du Chaillu. 

To-day we were rowed ashore, where three of us secured 
horses and rode while the others walked out to see an encamp- 
ment of "Laps." Laplanders are best enjoyed at a distance. 
Their clothes of leather are put on them as infants and added to 
as they grow, in pieces. We walked our horses up to the door 
of their cabin of earth, and looked in on the family, men and 
women, and a baby. Then we went to an inclosure full of 
reindeer. The name reindeer always sounded beautiful and 
romantic to me in fairy tales, so I did not recognize this drove 
of soiled, unhappy-looking rams, as the picturesque reindeer of 
my dreams. A Lap came and amused us by lassoing them. 
They seemed to like it (the reindeer did). Then we all sat for a 
picture, having to wait a good while for a reluctant Lap to be 
persuaded to sit before the camera. The Laps took a deep inter- 
est in the pictures of themselves that were being vended by a 
man and a woman. We were then rowed across to the town of 
Tromso and, after a short and unsavory walk, back to the ship. 

The next morning we reached Hammerf est, the most northern 
city in the world. Hammerfest is bad smelling and fishy. ■ It 
was raining hard, so I did not go ashore. From there we went 
on, rounding the North Cape and sailing up to the Nordkyn, 
-where we put about ship and returned to the North Cape. It 
was pretty rough, so our captain, out of consideration for his 
tourists, went on past the North Cape, and came to anchor be- 
hind still another promontory, where the sensitives could dine 
undisturbed by the heavings of the " Open Polar Sea," which 
stretched away to the northward. 

It had rained furiously all the morning and been dark and 
cloudy all day, so my friends who had been rabid for the 
ascent of the Cape to see the midnight sun during the whole 
trip, had weakened at the last ; in fact, given it up entirely, and 
were congratulating each other on their wisdom in so doing. I, 
however, had come up here to see the North Cape and the mid- 
night sun, and meant to carry out my programme to the letter. 
One characteristic of these wet days has been the clear, bright 
nights, and I saw the clearing up signs in the north, where the 



THE MIDNIGHT SUN. 263 

sun does his rising and setting, so I joined those who were go- 
ing, the only woman in the party. 

We landed in the ship's boat on a mass of broken rocks, a 
great landslide, over which we had to pick our way. Then we 
had a long ascent, which was as near the perpendicular as I 
want to try to climb. After an hour and a quarter of " tooth- 
and-nail" climbing, we reached the top of the grim palisade. 
Then came a long level walk, sometimes rocky and sometimes 
marshy, and then there was a glacier to cross, another little 
climb, and we had reached the summit of our ambition, the 
North Cape. 

I was the first one from our vessel on the Cape. A few of 
the. others came up soon. We sat at the foot of a little monu- 
ment, erected to King Oscar a year or so ago, on this second 
day of July, 1885, and rested ; looked at the sea, drank cham- 
pagne (brought up by the sailors) and waited for the sun, which 
was setting behind a convenient cloud, to rise. The sun here, 
at its lowest point, is some fifteen or twenty minutes above the 
horizon. There was nothing very gorgeous about its appear- 
ance ; but the whole picture was pretty. The ' ' Open Polar Sea," 
as seen from the North Cape, eight hundred feet above it, the 
sunlight softened by a passing cloud, suggested limitless ' ' cob- 
webby gray velvet, with the tender bloom like cold gravy," with 
just a glistening satiny finish. When the champagne was all 
gone, the sun rose high from behind that convenient cloud, and 
we retraced our steps in a happy glow of sunshine and gaiety, 
born of gratified ambition and a sufficiency of champagne. 

We saw the moon, too, by the way, a moon that was faded 
and pale, a moon without a vocation, a superfluous moon in 
this bright land of the midnight sun ; and as for the stars, 
well, I had forgotten there were stars, for they had all ' ' hidden 
their diminished heads." We gathered up some birds' eggs, 
flowers, and bits of white marble as souvenirs, and returned 
over snow and wet ground, picking our way gingerly down 
the mountain side, that was so dangerously near to the abso- 
lute perpendicular. We made a quicker descent than ascent, 
however, and having found our way back across the landslide, 
got into our boat, and were soon aboard the Haaken Jarl, 
which got her anchor up at once, and steamed gaily out, under 
a brilliant three o'clock-in-the-morning sun, to sea, where we 



264 A PATRIOTIC CELEBRATION. 

rolled violently until we passed behind the protecting granite 
islands on our way southward. 

On the return trip, we encountered fjords and glaciers ; and 
a stiff gale, which caused us to wish the granite coast and 
islands were further off. I prefer to enjoy my gales in the 
open sea, where there is plenty of room to thrash around. 

Our Fourth of July was celebrated gorgeously on board the 
Haaken Jarl. The two American gentlemen were very patri- 
otically inclined. Out of deference to us, the ship was arrayed 
in flags, the Stars and Stripes flying first at the masthead, and a 
salute was fired from our eight guns. The French, German, and 
Norwegian guests paid graceful tribute to our country in 
speeches at a dinner where champagne flowed freely, and 
everybody got as near to being gloriously drunk on the ' ' glor- 
ious Fourth " as good breeding would permit. A subscription 
was started for all the sailors and waiters on board, and they 
were also treated to beer. The little handful of Americans 
made as xmich fuss as they could in their determination to cele- 
brate the day and give expression to their patriotism. 

What attracted my attention most particularly was the 
marked difference between the atmosphere at dinner and sup- 
per. At dinner, all was gaiety, compliments and champagne. 
At supper there was a general air of fatigue and gloom. The 
young doctor, the leading spirit of patriotism at dinner, was 
now leaning his elbow on the table with his chin in his hand, 
the picture of sullen discontent. He refused to eat anything, 
and spent his time expressing his disapprobation of the world 
at large, and flashing fiery glances of scorn at the rest, who 
were wearily trying to eat. When offered food he rejected it, 
saying he had dyspepsia, and with another flash of his eyes, 
added in a tragic tone, "It was the bread." However, we sat 
on deck until we saw the sun, full and clear, come from behind 
the clouds at 11:30 P. M. ; then we retired, satisfied with our 
' ' glorious Fourth. " 

The L. L. was not displeased with our trip to the North Cape 
on the whole, the steamer being so nice and comfortable, but 
she is a fair weather, good hotel and brilliant shopping traveler 
I fear. Magnificent scenery doesn't pay her for poor accommo- 
dations. It is beautiful and civilized cities, with pretty drives, 
grand houses and fine shops that she finds most interesting. 



HELL. 265 

Hell, July 7th. — I've always expected to fetch up at this 
place sometime. I've heard a great deal about it, but I never 
knew its exact locality before. Nothing like traveling to im- 
prove one's mind and extend one's knowledge. Hell turns out 
to be in Norway, not far from Trondhjem. I have arrived by 
the Norway train, express, they call it here, but I should hate 
to travel by their way trains, if this is express. Hell proves to 
be a very pretty place. The scenery is very fine. There is a 
nice little depot where they dispense hot tea to the sinners who 
travel through the land. Now I have seen the place I should 
not mind if I did have to take up a permanent residence here. 
There is no observable smell of sulphur, and the inhabitants are 
very well bred. I am afraid the fires are low. 

Steamer Constantine, Gulf op Finland, July 10th. — 
Leaving Hell on the morning of the 7th, pursuing our way to 
Stockholm, we were required to change cars three times during 
the thirty-six hour journey. The peculiarity of the arrange- 
ment being that it was the ladies' car that was being perpetually 
taken off, the smoker going right through. 

At the railway restaurants they have no waiters. The traveler 
walks in and helps himself from a bountifully supplied table, 
then he tells the maiden at the desk what he has had and pays 
accordingly, unbounded confidence being placed in the travel- 
er's honesty. Those who want to "put on frills" take plates 
and knives and forks and napkins to the side tables. Then 
they take a plate in one hand and a fork in the other and 
meander around the center table, helping themselves to what 
they like, and take to their own table. We put on frills. You 
should have seen us start with a soup dish and a spoon for the 
soup tureen and then thread our way back through the crowd 
of people. We managed to get a small meal this way, how- 
ever. Finally our train reached Upsala, where we found a 
real live express train to take us the rest of the way. There 
were no more stops. We flew along for about one hour 
through a lovely country and then we arrived at Stockholm. 

We had but one day to give to Stockholm. This one day 
proved to be the Queen's birthday, so Stockholm and the ships 
in harbor were brilliant with flags. Stockholm is the northern 
"Venice, and is really charming. There are broad canals inter- 
secting it, and in view from our hotel there is an island in the 



266 STOCKHOLM. 

canal turned into a restaurant, filled, with people, dining at the 
Avater's edge under the trees. The palace was just opposite our 
hotel and separated by a broad canal, the harbor of the city. 
We were shown through a part of the palace, which was filled 
with Japanese, Indian and other foreign articles, including an 
immense pair of elephant's tusks from Siam. I renewed my 
acquaintance with Cloisine, Satsuma t copper and screens. 

After the necessary visits to bankers and Russian Consul, we 
drove out to the deer park and saw as much of the city as we 
could in so short a time. We drove through many narrow, hilly 
streets, and some broader ones bright with shops. We find furs 
are particularly cheap and otherwise attractive here. The only 
drawback to our entire approval of the lovely sealskin ulsters 
we look at is the excessive midsummer heat. 

Coming on board the steamer we again meet the Doctor and the 
Widower, as we call the American gentlemen who were on the 
steamer with us .at the North Cape. Perspiration is on the 
Doctor's brow, but on his arm he bears a fur-lined, fur-trimmed 
overcoat, the wonderful cheapness of which had tempted him 
to buy, regardless of the weather. We found our little state- 
rooms on the Constantine fairly comfortable, and the food good 
from a Russian point of view, though we experienced some 
slight difficulties in obtaining what we wanted through our in- 
ability to speak Swedish or Russian. 

The following morning found us at Abo, where we lay some 
six or eight hours in the heat. A party of four young people 
came on board here — a very handsome, dark-eyed young man, 
with two sisters and a brother of twelve years. I awoke to the 
knowledge that the boy, who sat next me at table, could speak 
English, when he passed something that I was complaining about 
because it was out of reach. He wore a uniform and looked so 
intensely Russian that it had never occun*ed to me to ask him 
for anything. The L. L. followed him up on deck with the 
idea of asking him some questions, when the eldest sister came 
to the rescue and asked if she could be of service. Presently 
the other sister and the elder brother joined her in telling us 
about Abo and the church we might go to see if we liked, to 
which the young man would escort us, with his sisters. We 
gladly accepted these kind offers, and strolled off to visit the 
church and some royal tombs which were in it. During the 



CHARMING ACQUAINTANCES. 267 

stroll we became somewhat acquainted, and after our return 
these amiable young people continued to entertain us, showing 
us sketches of their home and places they had visited. Finally, 
the young man produced a book, in which he asked us to write 
our names and addresses opposite our birthdays, it being a sort 
of calendar-autograph-album-picture-book. Our two American 
fellow travelers are readily admitted to the acquaintanceship, 
and after our names have all been written, the young man in- 
troduces us to his sisters, the Princess Vera and Princess Olga, 
his brother Prince and himself, their guardian ; presenting his 
card, Prince Nico B. M . 

Fancy our surprise and pleasure at finding we had been en- 
tertained for half a day by princely personages and didn't know 
it. If we had thought of meeting Princesses at all we never 
should have expected to find them so accessible or simply charm- 
ing and unostentatious. Fancy a Prince taking up a group of 
travel-stained tourists and conducting them personally about 
town. We learn that our friends are Princes of royal blood, 
and that their great-grandfather was the last King of Georgia. 
We observe that they all have the tiniest of dainty hands and 
feet, for which the Georgians were famous. The elder Princess 
is the quiet, prudent housekeeper, the Princess of the religious 
novel, who dispenses bread, soup, religion and clothes to her 
peasantry, and looks after them generally, acting as doctor and 
nurse to a village full of people, over whom she rules in a small 
way. The other Princess is fair, bright, chatty, accomplished, 
and is only nineteen. All three are religious to the back- 
bone, active, industrious, economical, amiable, polite and self- 
sacrificing in the extreme. Their whole education has been to 
do as much for their fellow creatures as they can. My republi- 
canism is not proof against such an array of virtues. My heart 
has already been won by these amiable qualities, and I cannot 
take it back because I discover the possessors thereof are princes 
of royal blood. 

Our royal friends continue to entertain us in the most friendly 
manner. The Prince paints a charming little sketch of the Abo 
Cathedral for me and another for the L.L., and in the morning 
when we arrive at their home at Helsingfors he escorts us all 
about the place. He takes us to the Russian church to hear the 
lovely musical service, to the gardens, and finally, with his 



268 A PRINCE AMONG MEN. 

sisters, to the baths. The bathing in the Baltic Sea is very fine 
indeed, and the younger Princess is an expert swimmer. After 
the baths and a short walk, we bade a reluctant good-by to the 
Princesses, while their brother still assisted some of our party to 
see the town, giving himself only an hour or so at home out of 
that whole day of his return, and coming back at five to spend 
the last hour with us and see us off. He brought a lot of pho- 
tographs of family and friends to show us, among which were 
many of notable names of whom I have read. We left him 
standing on the dock, waving his handkerchief from the point 
of an umbrella, in one hand, and three or four letters he had 
volunteered to mail for us in the other. He has promised to 
send us his picture, and we are to send ours in return. 

He was a real prince, for we have met him on his native 
heath. He was a prince among men, for never have I seen a 
sweeter, more lovable disposition. He showed us sights, wrote 
us programmes and directions and letters of introduction, and 
painted us pictures. His only regret was that he was not going 
to be in St. Petersburg to show us about and entertain us there. 
When we passed their villa on the coast and the Prince's hand- 
kerchief and letters were out of sight, the Princesses' handker- 
chiefs hove in view from their veranda, and there on their little 
wharf at the foot of the garden was the little Prince, waving 
his hat for dear life. The elder Prince is as handsome as a 
picture, neither smokes nor drinks, and is the most considerate, 
affectionate brother I ever saw — polite and thoughtful for 
everybody. 



RUSSIA. 

Hotel d'Europe, St. Petersburg, July lBth. — To begin 
with, we had heard much against Russia before we got here. 
Russia was "hot and dirty," "all Russians were vile." We 
were to be marched by the captain of the steamer up to the 
chief of police and our passports examined before we could go 
to a hotel ; our baggage was to be unceremoniously dumped on 
the wharf and portions of it confiscated ; therefore we trembled. 
But lo ! none of these things came to pass. The lid of the L. 
L.'s trunk was lifted and a book looked at suspiciously. My 
baggage was treated with the usual scorn — simply chalked. I 
was disappointed. I had made sure my strap would be undone 
and my copying journal seized as seditious matter, and myself 
sent to Siberia. At the hotel we had to quite insist on our 
passports being taken to the police inspector. Finally they 
were taken and we got official permission to leave St. Peters- 
burg. Permission was also got to visit the Hermitage and the 
Winter Palace. 

The first things one remarks on arriving at St. Petersburg are 
the gilded domes and steeples. I've no doubt they are pretty in 
Winter, but on a blistering hot day you wish them in the infer- 
nal regions with their dazzling glare and glitter. It proves to 
be hot in Russia — hotter than Hades, in fact. With my natural 
flendishness of temper I remind my suffering, groaning fellow 
travelers that it was only a week ago they were protesting 
against a cool climate and were pining, literally languishing, 
for a hot climate ; that they had said several times a day how 
they hated a cold Summer and sighed for warm weather. Now 
that their prayers were granted, they, the hot weatherites, were 
the most violent in their protests against the heat. Of course I 
said, " I told you so." 

We had a good long ride up through the town to the hotel. 
We endeavored to read the Greek looking signs, and exclaimed 
at the muffled appearance of the natives in all this heat. We 
rode in a drosky with unmanageable horses. The drosky driver 
wears a tall hat with curled brim and concave sides and a heavy 
wadded ulster that buttons under one arm, the long skirt of 

269 



270 ST. PETERSBURG. 

which is gathered into the waist at the back and belted around 
in front. We don't know whether they have anything else on 
or not. We hope not, for, as I said before, it is hot. The 
drosky drivers are all stout. The soldiers also walk along in the 
blazing sun with heavy overcoats depending from their shoul- 
ders, and ladies go about well wrapped up. It would seem that 
the Russians don't know warm weather when they feel it. 
Getting to the hotel we undress and order ice. Mr. and 
Mrs. D , a pair of American fellow travelers recently en- 
countered, invite us to share their guide, carriage and expenses. 

We go the first evening, it being Sunday, to the "Islands" 
to see the sunset. But a sunset at half -past nine P. M. is too 
tame for us. We go to a concert garden. The concert garden 
is distinctly "naughty," but the chief end and aim of an Ameri- 
can lady's ambition abroad is to see those things sb£ would 
not dare see at home. At the garden we see the best trapeze 
performance I ever saw in my life. Then some " Hanlon, Lees, 
Girards" sort of people perform and a girl walks the slack wire 
most excellently well ; curtain drops ; bell rings, and another 
show opens on the other side of the garden. After that a band 
starts up in another corner. We gather ostensibly to hear the 
music, but really to talk loud and drink beer — evils of a party. 
At last, being surfeited with naughtiness, we go to the hotel at 
midnight, where we groan with heat in our several apartments 
until morning. 

The following day we go to the Hermitage first, a picture gal- 
lery, museum and collection of jewels — lots of old masters ; more 
Murillos than I've seen anywhere ; several Immaculate Con- 
ceptions ; some old portraits. Guide goes off with our pass- 
ports and does not come back. We look at all the Murillos 
over again, and swear. Russian lackey explains in Russian — 
we swear some more. Guide turns up again with more ' ' per- 
missions." He explains hurriedly. Most everything belonged 
to and was made by order of Peter the Great. We see the beau- 
tiful and costly jewels in snuff boxes and scepters. We see some 
crowns, dating way back to the Greek and Roman crown of 
gold leaves. Then we go to the Winter Palace and walk 
through room after room of mirrored and polished elegance. 
The white room is the most unique, being what its name indi- 
cates, pure white in all its appointments. We are shoAvn the 



ST. ISAAC'S — PETERHOF. 271 

room where a dynamite explosion occurred, and the room where 
the last Czar was brought to die after the bomb exploded in 
his carriage. 

How tired we get of walking on polished floors ! Nothing is 
more fatiguing than walking on their slippery surfaces. We 
consider we have done a day's work in getting through these 
two palaces. Nevertheless, that evening we start out and " do " 
another music garden. A good joke is made at our expense. 
Mr. D is protesting to the guide his desire to see some- 
thing more than the night before. He says " I don't want to 
do as we did last night. I want to see something. Why, last 
night we just stood around there like a pack of fools." Guide 
(amiably and sympathetically), " Yes, that is so." 

On the third day the L. L. and I go to the church of St. 
Isaac's. Here is a richness for you — a dozen columns of 
malachite and lapis lazuli. They looked to be from twenty to 
thirty feet in height, and a foot and a half or two feet thick. 
I've seen malachite and lapis lazuli used as jewelry, also inlaid 
in small pieces ; at Versailles I saw a great bowl of it ; but 
when it comes to making the pillars of a church of them I am 
surprised. There are many pictures in this church simply 
crusted with jewels, immense rubies, stunning diamonds and 
tremendous emeralds and sapphires. St. Isaac's appears to be 
the richest church in the world. It approaches the dimensions 
of St. Peter's at Eome. We rejoin our friends and start out to 
see ' ' Peterhof . " We are first driven at a desperate pace through 
St. Petersburg in droskies that hold two and a driver, drawn by 
the fastest of steeds. The drosky has no back or sides, so we 
hold fast to each other for dear life. We next take a small 
steamer and sail down the Neva for an hour ; then we get a 
carriage and drive up into the town — first to the Commandant 
to get permission to visit the various palaces. We drive all about 
the palace grounds. They are superb. Versailles is nowhere. 

In front of the palace is an avenue of fountains, culminating 
in a grand group of fountains and waterfalls and statuary, at 
the terrace before the palace doors. Besides this main avenue, 
fountains and waterfalls are scattered about the grounds in the 
utmost profusion. Wherever there are branching roads there 
are fountains. Sometimes a broad flight of stairs is seen with 
water tumbling down them. There is a great square with rows 



272 THE EMPRESS OF RUSSIA. 

of pillars and fountains all about it, and outside of it are as 
many lions' heads belching water. We enter the great palace 
and go all through it ; it is magnificent. Palaces are much 
alike wherever you go ; they only vary in size and. degrees of 
grandeur. They all have polished floors ; silk, satin and 
tapestried walls ; satin chairs and sofas here and there, and 
some fine pictures. Most of them have Japanese and Chinese 
rooms. Of all the palaces I have seen, Russia presents the 
finest and richest. 

Coming out of the great palace, we encounter the lady who 
owns it in common with her imperial husband — the Empress of 
Russia herself. Only a pretty, quietly dressed lady in a basket 
phaeton, with a child beside her and another behind her in the 
footman's seat. She drives herself and has no attendants. She 
bows politely as she passes. She dosen't live here, but in a 
quiet retreat near. We take to our carriages again, and are 
driven to a tiny little palace the personification of cosiness and 
comfort, where their Imperial Majesties may retire for rural 
quiet ; similar in purpose, but more cosy than the " Petit 
Trianon " at Versailles. We went also to the house from which 
the place takes its name of Peterhof ; the house of Peter the 
Great, a little, low-ceiled building of very ancient type. Here 
there are many articles that Peter the Great used — his bedroom, 
bed and bedding as he left them, his kitchen with utensils and 
platters. The walls are of bluish, square tiles. We all pined 
to steal one tile as a souvenir. We are shown many pieces of 
Peter's own handiwork, his paintings from childhood up. 
Peter was a "Jack-of -all-trades," but contrary to the proverb, 
good at several. Back we go to St. Petersburg. 

The next morning we start out to see the fortress church 
whose tall, gilded slender spire has dazzled our eyes from 
various parts of the city, and St. Peter and Paul, which we 
take to be three different churches, and groan accordingly, but 
which turn out to be one combined church inside the fortress. 
It contains the tombs of dead and gone Czars and their families 
— among others, the late Alexander II. (who was annihilated, 
as it were). At the arsenal, before admitting us, they asked us 
if we were English. Being told that we were Americans, we 
were welcomed. Here we inspected an array of ancient artil- 
lery, by which it appeared that Peter the Great had invented the 



Moscow. 273 

" Krupp" gun, and had it made to order, and the revolving six 
shooter as well. Indeed, most all of the latest inventions in 
implements of war are to be found here in crude and clumsy 
form. And everything was made at the order of — most things 
by — Peter the Great, personally. We go from here to a mon- 
astery and to a little church, seeing somebody's blood stained 
sword by the way. At a shop we saw artistically fashioned 
articles of malachite and lapis lazuli, some of which we bought. 

Moscow. — Arrived here, we go out in the blazing sun to see 
the city. We are half dead with fatigue, and the glare of the 
sun and the heat are intolerable. Still, we are glad we came 
to Moscow, it is so curious. It is ancient, it is Moorish, it is 
Oriental. 

First to a picture gallery. There are many Oriental pictures, 
and many fine pictures of incidents in Russian history. At St. 
Petersburg everything was said in praise of Peter the Great. 
At Moscow we get the reverse of the picture. At St. Peters- 
burg he appeared as tbe inventor, the man of wisdom and jus- 
tice, the industrious man and freer of slaves ; but here in 
Moscow he is represented as an inhuman father and brother and 
a merciless despot. We have seen many pictures of Peter, but 
in this gallery are two, which are great as representations of 
character. Never have I seen a more expressive face than is 
given him by the artists in these two pictures : one representing 
him with the son who has conspired against his life, before him 
— the son whom he had imprisoned and tortured and finally had 
executed. The other represents him on horseback in the public 
square, witnessing the arrival and execution of the rebels who 
took part in the conspiracy against him. In the first picture he 
looks all the anger, indignation, outraged feeling and scorn of 
one who has discovered a dangerous enemy in his own child. 
In the latter he looks the hauteur of a powerful despot crush- 
ing his foes in triumph. The pictures are faithful likenesses of 
the man and are wonders in their delineation of expressions of 
human emotion as shown in the face. There is a picture of his 
sister, whom he also consigned to prison. The finest, most 
striking picture in the gallery, is a dreadful one — representing 
the fearful fate of a beautiful rival of Queen Katherine. 
She and Peter are represented a? g^eat rulers of Russia, though 
we hear a good deal about Alexander Nevsky. The churches 



274 ST. BASLE. 

here are Japanese like in color and Moorish in design, and very 
large. Their brightly colored exteriors and many domes and 
spires, also in vivid colors, make Moscow unlike any other city 
in the world. It has a fairy tale effect. 

Moscow is a charming and unique picture. We go first to 
the new church, which is plain white on the outside, but 
gorgeous in great frescoes inside, and delightfully cool on this 
hot day. The gentlemen are admitted to the inner altar. We 
sinful women are not permitted to cross the threshold of this 
sacred place. Even the Empress may not profane this holy 
spot by her impure feminine presence, woman is so much viler 
than man — according to the Russian church. We go into a 
couple of smaller churches, next to the palace, that are very 
old. In one we see a picture supposed to have been painted by 
St. John. It is well he is dead, for the picture is so bad and 
black that one can see nothing at all until the guide points out 
an eye and then a nose, and then by straining the imagination 
very hard, one can conjure, out of the general gloom, a 
blackened head of Christ. This is a very old church, dark and 
with curious designs on the walls, and old gilded pictures. 
Across the court is another church, the church where the Czars 
and Czarinas undergo their coronation. Here they have a dead 
saint some hundreds of years old, covered with a black cloth 
with a round hole on the forehead, where the devout might kiss 
the holy skull. We omitted that ceremony. 

St. Basle is the gorgeous green and yellow and purple church 
we had our eyes on ever since we set foot in Moscow. It is the 
oddest, most interesting thing we have seen yet. The interior 
is composed of Gothic, frescoed, corridors around the central 
altar, but these frescoed walls are in the most curious of ancient 
designs and colors, quite different from anything else in the 
world and quite indescribable. On the exterior it is a most 
picturesque pile of domes and spires, painted in all the glow- 
ing tints of the rainbow. We see the great bell of Moscow, 
which I have seen pictured many times, and which was 
broken and recast and broken again because the ladies of Mos- 
cew threw so many jewels into the molten metal that its temper 
was destroyed — so the guide says. The great bell is within the 
Kremlin walls, which, by the way, we have been running in 
and out of and through all the afternoon, via the sacred gate, 



PIETY AND DIRT. 275 

where every passer through pulls off his hat and prays fer- 
vently. Our drivers never fail to doff their hats, and while 
they hold their hat and reins in one hand, cross themselves 
assiduously with the other. O holy, dirty Moscow ! Every- 
where you see shrines and dirt. Opposite the holy gate is a 
corner where every pious citizen turns in four different direc- 
tions and crosses himself and mutters prayers to four different 
shrines, and kneels to each, while the busy throng, having fin- 
ished their devotions, swarm by intent on business. 

Russia is dirty, her people are likewise. Moscow is especially 
so. But it is a holy land and a pious people. There are plenty 
of rich churches and poor people. Religion, poverty, ignorance 
and dirt, go hand in hand — might be called concomitants of 
each other. The most ignorant and oppressed countries in the 
world are, I believe, also the most church ridden. America is 
the most radical and the most civilized country in the world. 
Russia, Ireland and Italy are but little in advance of heathen- 
dom, which is only a grade lower in ignorance, superstition 
and dirt than Christiandom, for none are so deeply religious as 
the heathen. In St. Petersburg, as well as Moscow, our drivers 
were forever taking off their hats and crossing themselves as 
they drove past shrines and holy places. 

After seeing the great bell, we returned to the hotel and went 
to bed for a rest. I had been quite ill all the afternoon, but had 
been amused at the general fatigued air of our party. Every- 
thing was very new and interesting, but the utterly inert and 
listless air with which the whole party dragged themselves 
about was too funny. There was a solemnity about it that sug- 
gested grave reflections on the worthlessness of life. How hard 
people will work to enjoy themselves ! Having a good time is 
the hardest work in the world. After a couple of hours' rest, 
we all dragged ourselves together again, the most forlorn, used- 
up looking party you ever saw, to go to dinner at a Russian 
restaurant, a dinner at which we all started out bravely to eat 
everything on the Russian bill of fare in the Russian style, 
but slipped up on the first course — soup — and fell to drinking 
apollinaris and admiring the snowy costumes of the waiters. 
After dinner we adjourned to a garden called the Hermitage, 
where an opera bouffe was being played, as well as some out-of- 
door performances. The style in Russia is to come out of the 



276 PALACES AND PEASANTS. 

theatre between the acts and witness an acrobatic or trapeze per- 
formance, and then return to the next act of the opera. There 
was a great deal of buffoonery about the acting, but the singing 
was good. 

Next day we saw the Royal Treasury, which contained the 
coronation thrones for ages past, very rich and elegant, and 
many beautiful jeweled sceptres and glittering crowns of the 
past Czars. We saw, too, many of their portraits, and below 
stairs the ancient coaches of royalty, large and gilded. We 
went to the palace, with great halls, with silk lined walls and 
polished floors, and then into the old palace. All here was 
novelty again. Like the picturesque old church, it was dis- 
tinctly Moorish in design, rooms small, ceilings arched and 
frescoed in fanciful patterns — small-paned, stained glass win- 
dows, all sombre and fanciful and old. A stairway led up to 
the council hall, into which in former times the opposing par- 
ties, coming from different ways, entered by different doors, 
only meeting in the hall. 

We drive to Sparrow Hill to see the sun set, and look at a 
peasant's house or two — one very small peep is enough for me. 
The peasants have the most rooted objections to fresh air. It is 
hot weather, but such windows as they have are closed. There 
is sure to be a bit of holy picture on the wall, though, some- 
where. We had to send our passports and get official permis- 
sion to leave Russia. Next morning we were off for Warsaw, 
thirty-six hours by train. 

The journey from Moscow to Warsaw is very long and slow, 
and most comfortless and uninteresting. The prospect from 
the car windows is flat and bare ; the small places we stop at 
now and then are poor and straggling ; the people look rough 
and miserable. We see women roughly treated by brutal rail- 
road officials. We find nothing but beer and* poor sandwiches 
to eat and drink ; and the road is the roughest I ever traveled 
over. The carriage rolls and pitches at times like a vessel at 
sea, only the pitching and rolling is of a jerky, jolty, violent 
kind. Our compartment has leather-covered seats that pull out 
at night and form lounges. There is no obliging colored 
porter at hand to pull them out though, and they are dusty. 
But by this time we are used to making the best of such com- 
forts as we have, so we sociably enjoy each others' society 



WARSAW AND VIENNA. 277 

during the day, and at night we curl up in our respective rugs 
and sleep in defiance of jerks and jolts. 

Warsaw. — We find a most enthusiastic guide here ; one who 
insists on our admiring everything ; who calls the park here 
the most beautiful in the world, and tells us that General Grant 
called it " some Arabian Nights." It is a pretty park, and m it 
is a pretty little palace that looks out on the water on two sides, 
and contains some lovely pictures. In one of the lakes is a 
tiny island, and on the island a stage, surrounded on three 
sides by perfectly concealing foliage. The fourth side opens on 
a narrow neck of water that divides it from the mainland. On 
the mainland is a rising half circle of seats for the audience, 
roofless and quite open to the air. The audience looks across 
the water on to the stage, which boasts real trees and a canopy 
of leafy foliage, in lieu of the usual painted scenery. In the 
palace, by the way, was a lovely picture of a girl, with the most 
exquisitely beamful feminine face. On the way out we stop to 
see the Summer garden and restaurant, where musical perform- 
ances take place at night. At Warsaw we had to show our 
passport at the hotel and write on them the Christian names of 
our parents. 

Leaving Warsaw at night we reached Vienna the next after- 
noon at five and proceeded to hunt up information about trains 
to Switzerland. The information was so hard to get, and put 
Switzerland so far off, that I concluded to take the fast express 
that I'd heard of to Paris. We rose early the next morning 
and spent the day making inquiries about trains, shopping, 
banking, sightseeing. We had heard of Vienna being a rival 
of Paris, of the Hotel Metropole as the pink of hotels. We found 
Vienna a small city that fringed off into Shantyville, and the 
Hotel Metropole a house where you paid high prices and got 
little in return. I left Austria with feelings of utter disgust and 
dislike. They are a stupid, stolid, disobliging, grasping lot. 
There is no place in the world where you pay so high and get 
so little, even of common politeness, in return, as in Germany. 
We did the Ring Strasse, a gallery, a palace, some shopping, 
and left that night, parting at the depot, going our several ways. 
The L. L. from whom I part here, is a shopping as well as a fair 
weather and good hotel traveler. All the way up through Nor- 
way she pined for Stockholm, St. Petersburg and Vienna, 



278 PARIS AGAIN. 

large cities where she could investigate the shops. She hardly 
felt that she had seen a town unless she had investigated the 
shops. Her pleasure at "Vienna was only marred by the neces- 
sity of so early a departure, for the shops are particularly bril- 
liant and enticing. 

I had the porter, several waiters and a courier, whom I sent 
to the railroad office, finding out trains for me. Nowhere else 
have I taken such trouble to be accurate about trains. But all 
my trouble was of no avail. I at last got on a train that took 
me wandering all over the country, sans comfort, when I might 
have had a through train with sleeper but for the stupidity of 
the people I. had to deal with. I was consigned to a train with- 
out sleeper, with changes at five A. M. , and other changes not 
down on the bill of fare, instead of carrying me directly through 
to Paris, as I had been assured by porter, courier and railroad 
agent, it would do. On the French frontier, at midnight, I was 
compelled to tumble out of the car with my baggage — not a 
porter to carry anything, and pass through a custom house. The 
usual thing happened to me, however, my baggage was chalked 
and passed on without investigation. I have a car to myself, 
and that is a blessing, so I wake up at five A. M. tolerably 
fresh, after two nights on the cars, to get off the train at 
Paris. 

Paris is a great city, and I feel at home here. I am driven 
to the hotel in the early morning, behind a horse that is only 
just able to stand, and falls down eventually, breaking the 
shaft, just a block from the hotel. The driver tinkers the 
arrangement together, and we proceed to the hotel, where I am 
received with enthusiasm by the portier. I am pretty tired, but 
for all my tired I am filled with relief, for I am alone again. 

I spent two days in Paris, visiting Pere la Chaise one day, and 
the Gobelin Tapestries the next. I religiously hunted up the 
tomb of Abelard and Heloise, though Mark Twain has partly 
destroyed the romance connected with these two people in 
" Innocents Abroad." It is a quiet, picturesque, pleasant little 
village on the hillside, this " City of the Dead," and there is as 
little of gloom and horror as may be in connection with the last 
resting place. I walked through its shaded avenues for quite a 
while, watching the people coming with wreaths of fresh flowers 
and watering pots, to work over and beautify the tombs. 



AT THE GOBELINS. 279 

At the Gobelins I expected to find a noisy manufactory, but 
I was quite mistaken. The long, cool, shaded rooms are very 
pleasant on this hot Summer day, and very quiet. It is inter- 
esting to watch these great pictures growing under the busy 
hands of men. The men are hidden behind the work, while 
they run their needles back and forth through the barrier of 
perpendicular threads. You can see the left hand gathering 
together and pulling apart half a dozen threads, while the 
right puts the needle through them, and then chops the thread 
securely down to place. If you like, you may look behind and 
see the innumerable bobbins hanging from the various colored 
threads, and the picture whose design is being worked out, 
hanging at the back, where the workers may turn and glance 
at it and work accordingly. Some of the frames have a design 
slightly marked on the threads, but many seem to follow the 
picture entirely. There were many rooms with different tapes- 
tries in process, some of them being worked on the right side, 
and then cut, making a plush-like finish. 

I shall leave Paris with some trepidation, for I have all my 
luggage with me now, and London is the much talked of, long 
dreaded great city, where there are so many things one must or 
must not do. The terrible Channel is to cross, and a Custom 
House to pass with all my baggage. 



ENGLAND. 

Russell Square, London, August 7th. — The Channel proved 
delightfully smooth. I went on board at Calais, and after an 
hour and a half of delightful sail we reached the Dover coast, 
and presently" I make my first acquaintance with the English 
chimney pots. I inspected the little Channel steamer above 
and below, and then took up a permanent position on the bridge 
until, coming into port, all passengers were requested to go 
below. There we must unstrap our hand baggage for inspec- 
tion. Then ashore; aboard the train, and in an hour and a 
half we were in London. 

I arrived in London a stranger and alone on Sunday 
evening, July 26th. I had here to have my trunks, which, in 
the course of my peregrinations, have grown from two to three, 
examined. This was done in a superficial sort of fashion, and 
presently I was in a cab, driving up from Charing Cross to 
Russell Square. I have heard much about the dangers of this 
great city, and truly, I think I should be afraid to walk alone 
on this Sunday evening, on these streets so full of young 
roughs. The sidewalks are teeming with them, walking and 
standing around in knots. Such a lot of cub ruffians I never 
saw before. I have sent word of my coming to this boarding 
place and I am welcomed cordially. It is not particularly 
attractive, but I've been told that I will be much more comfort- 
able, and that it is not pleasant for a lady to be alone at some 
hotels in London. In the morning I began by going to the 
American Exchange, my banker's next, and then I plunged 
into sightseeing. 

I went to Westminster Abbey, gazed at the names renowned 
in history and literature and studied out the ancient inscriptions 
setting forth the virtues of the dead. It is the most interest- 
ing church in the world, with its buried ages of royalty and 
fame, birth and brains. The inventive and literary stars of 
Britain lie here with her Kings and Queens. I went to St. 
Paul's next and then to the Tower ; but I could not get 
admittance, it having been closed since the dynamite explosion 
there. 

380 



LONDON. 281 

I turned my attention, therefore, to the National Gallery 
and its fine array of pictures, the Turner collection principally. 
Having dispatched my letters of introduction, a response comes 
from one next morning. It is a reception day and will I 
please call ? Oh, dear ! I'd rather die ! I thought everybody 
was out of town and I was quite safe. I get out my best " bib 
and tucker " and my Japanese card case, and, stepping into a 
hansom, I am off to make a ceremonious call. 

These hansoms, by the way, are delightful. There is nothing 
in front of you but the horse. You are, to all intents and pur- 
poses, driving alone without the trouble of handling the reins 
or thinking where you are going. The driver is perched high 
up behind you. He opens a tiny door in the roof and asks the 
top of your head where you want to go. There are a pair of 
doors in front of you over which you look. It's a two wheeled 
vehicle and when the horse slips, which he frequently does, 
you are apt to fly through these doors somewhat abruptly. 
London streets are rather dirty and exceedingly slippery. The 
number of horses one sees fall down during a drive is alarm- 
ing. The streets are smooth and nice to drive upon, paved 
with blocks of wood mostly, but the horses ought to be sharp- 
shod. Driving along Picadilly I've seen the horses' feet slip a 
good foot at every step as they ran, in such a distressing man- 
ner do the horses go sprawling and sliding along. The wonder 
is that they do not fall oftener. 

I was received by a silent English maid and ushered into a 
silent English house, where were several, not exactly silent, but 
hushed English ladies. The air of quiet that reigned was curi- 
ous. It was the hush of a f uneral. I managed to have a pleas- 
ant call, however, and left after having witnessed a distressingly 
affectionate parting between two of the ladies. Coming out I 
drove to the South Kensington Museum, in which I find copies 
in plaster of all the masterpieces of marble in Italy and France, 
besides many other interesting things. ' One thing that in- 
terested me was a great set of pictorial titles or plaques illustrat- 
ing the history of King Harold. Upstairs were some paintings, 
among which I found David G-arrick and Mrs. Siddons. It is 
a very large and very fine museum. Returning home, I find 
another letter of introduction has been responded to. I am to 
call Thursday. Wednesday I am determined to see the Tower. 



282 AN EXCEPTIONAL LETTER — THE TOWER. 

When my intention to continue my journey around the 
world, alone, was announced, friends anxious to aid me, or 
fearful that I should meet with difficulties, sent me numerous 
letters of introduction. Many of these I have not used, having 
a dread of being "entertained " or of putting any one to trouble, 
besides always finding agreeable society in the chance acquaint- 
ances I made. 

Among the letters sent me was one from Washington, very 
seldom given to any one, I am told — a letter from the Secre- 
tary of State, commending me to all the United States Ministers 
and Consuls in the world, and requesting their kind attentions 
and services in my behalf. With this letter came the assurance 
that it would doubtless prove valuable in smoothing away the 
numerous difficulties I was expected to encounter. 

How easy and free from difficulties my journey has been 
may be judged from the fact that I have had neither occasion 
nor desire to present this letter since leaving Yokohama, until 
now. 

Now, finding that I cannot see the Tower of London without 
the intervention of the American Consul, I present my letter 
to him, am graciously received and obtain a permit for the 
Tower. And subsequently, a card of admission to Westmin- 
ster Abbey to witness the funeral ceremonies in honor of Genl. 
Grant, which were very impressive. The music was very fine. 

On going to the Tower, I find a nice looking young man just 
presenting his permit, an American, too. It is one of my bold 
days, so I claim him as a countryman of mine, and we get 
acquainted right away. Our party is augmented by three 
Australians, and we proceed into the Tower. Of course I had 
thought the Tower was one single round tower, shooting up like 
a lighthouse, which it isn't. It's a square building with a round 
tower at each corner, but there seems to be an additional tower 
or so set around, and quite a village around that, all inclosed 
by the walls and moat. There is a great gateway in the river 
face of the wall, close before which are the stairs where all 
royalty were wont to land in the old days when the Thames 
washed these steps, and there is the old ring where they used to 
fasten their boats. The great " portcullis" is still in good con- 
dition, while just overhead is the place where the little Princes 
were imprisoned. Entering the Tower, we are shown the stairs 



PRISON AND BLOCK. 283 

under which the bones of the little unfortunates were found. 
We are then conducted upstairs to a council hall, and then to the 
main portion of the tower, now converted into an arsenal. The 
arrangement of implements of war is very artistic, railings and 
doors being constructed by ingenious arrangement of bayonets, 
guns and pistols. Here are old suits of armor, too, worn by 
famous men in battle, and many interesting and terrible curi- 
osities. We are shown a dungeon cell called " Little Ease," so 
small that it now serves as a doorway merely, for a proportion- 
ately palatial dungeon cell, where we are told Jews were put for 
chipping coins to obtain silver. 

Outside we see the block on which the best blood of England 
was spilt ; here Lord John Grey was beheaded, while his wife, 
Lady Jane Grey, looked on from an upper window in the 
prison, from whence she was brought a few hours later to be 
executed on the same spot. We are taken, later, up into the 
rooms where she was confined, as were also many other prison- 
ers at different times, who cut their names on the walls in many 
fanciful designs. There is an inner dungeon where prisoners 
were put at night sometimes, for greater safety. We look out 
of the same window that the unfortunate Lady Jane looked 
from when she witnessed the execution of her husband ; and 
then we descend. We have already glanced at the little chapel 
close by. And having spent an hour in a bygone age, we re- 
traced our steps under the great portcullis, and outside, finally, 
of the Tower walls, grim record of many tragedies. 

Meanwhile, I had cultivated the young American. He evi- 
dently possessed a simple, sincere, earnest and genial nature. 
A mere chance acquaintance, I could not help comparing this 
rising business man, developed from a hard working boy, to 
some of the millionaire friends I had been recently traveling 
with, and they fell several pegs. But oh ! how the comparison 
would insult them. Why is it, I wonder, that men whose money 
represents so much labor of their own, frequently value it so 
much less, except for what it buys, than those who have always 
had thousands at their command ? This young business man 
would, I feel sure, be ashamed to do one of the trivial, mean 
things I have been seeing millionaires doing everyday. A Cali- 
fornia stage driver would put them to the blush for true gen- 
tlemanliness. 



284 MADAM TUSSAUD'S. 

I spent a day in the British Museum, with its great collections 
from Egypt, Athens, and every part of the world. These two 
museums, the British and Kensington, are the finest and most 
extensive in the world. 

After the Museum I made another call. I found Lady H 

and her daughter very lively and chatty. Here I met the 
aesthetic maiden in full bloom — a young lady with a pretty 
face, wearing a velvet "aesthetic" hat. She had a long neck, 
which the low cut " Kate Greena way " dress and limp turn- 
down collar exposed to the fullest advantage. The dress was 
shortwaisted and scant of skirt : she looked a perfect caricature. 

A visit to "Madam Tussaud's " has quite a historical interest. 
I admired the wax figures very much. Many are modeled 
from ancient pictures and are very correct as to costume. 
Seeing the prominent people of one time grouped together, 
brings vividly to mind the contemporary events belonging to 
each reign. Henry VIII. and his wives are an interesting 
group — Queen Katherine and her maids of honor, Anne 
Boleyn among them. The life of a Queen had its perils. The 
" Chamber of Horrors " was not so horrible after all. I've seen 
more horrible things in picture galleries. I was disgusted with 
the "Chamber of Horrors." It did not make my blood run 
cold a bit. I did not linger there. Among the many models 
of living people, those of Irving and Ellen Terry were very 
good. There were a host of notabilities, ancient and modern. 

I went out by rail to the Crystal Palace, and wandered 
around in that great glass house until I was tired. And I saw 
many other things in and about London too familiar to need 
description. 

I had accepted an invitation to dinner with some hesitation, 
not being a "dinist." I went, however, and had a pleasant, 
quiet dinner with a quiet lady and her quiet children. The 
lady is an adept at drawing one out, so I spent the day talking. 
The next day my friend, the L. L. , put in an appearance from 
Paris. We spent the day gossiping, and finished it at the 
theatre with the "Mikado." The next day I saw Grant's 
funeral service, which was very impressive ; the Abbey was 
crowded, the address good, the music fine. Later, to the In- 
ventories, an affair similar to our American Institute Fair, but 
larger, with outer grounds, and music. 



THEATRE AUDIENCES— CABMEN. 285 

After a week of lovely, bright weather the traditional gloom 
and fog have put in an appearance. I have met a pretty little 
couple here that interest me. They are variety performers, 
professional skaters. No more charming little pair have I seen 
in a long time. They are young, good looking, quiet, and 
English ; have traveled a great deal, of course, and they like 
America. They say one may rise from the lowest variety 
stage to the first rank in the dramatic profession in America. 
Here that cannot be done. 

I went also to see the "Private Secretary." The play is very 
amusing, but the audience interested me most. An English 
audience laughs very loud and boisterously, when amused, if 
they do consider it bad form to show amusement or emotion. 
An American audience expresses its pleasure in a much 
quieter, more refined way, however spontaneous it may be. 
A loud guffaw in an American audience always attracts the 
attention and amusement of the rest of the people because of 
its loneliness and singularity. Here the whole audience 
guffaws in a manner that seriously interferes with the play. 
Between the acts you may have cake and ices brought to you 
in your seat. (Saves the ladies the trouble of going out "to see 
a man.") 

London is a great and busy city. The cab system is delight- 
ful. I like London. After getting swindled once or twice by 
cabmen into paying double price I found out how to manage. 
I had studied the little placard pasted up in front of the dash- 
board of the hansoms, but as I did not know where a ' ' circle " 
began or left off, and can't guess with any accuracy as to miles, 
that did not help me much. I concluded, finally, that a shil- 
ling would cover most of my trips — you have to pay a shilling 
for any distance — and that if it ever called for more it could 
only be sixpence. When I was driven a long way and was in 
doubt, I would simply hand out my shilling and walk off, cer- 
tain that if that was really too little the man would call me back, 
while, if it were right, he would believe from my confident 
manner that I knew all about it. The plan works beautifully. 
I deal out my shilling now regularly and flee with never a look 
behind me. I find the London cabman, under this method of 
treatment, a very reasonable and polite being. No "pour 
boire" is asked or expected apparently. The feeing is by no 



286 HAMPTON COURT. 

means as bad in England as on the Continent. I have had no 
disturbances with cabmen at all. 

I find the English railway depots bare and comfortless. 
There are few officials, no attention and no information. The 
traveler is expected to be familiar with the country he is in. 
Names of stations are not conspicuously placed, and no brake- 
man opens the door and remarks in stentorian tone, " Nun head, 
c-h-a-n-g-e for Crystal Palace." On the Continent your ticket 
is looked at before the train starts, but in London you have no 
use for your ticket until you have descended from the car and 
want to pass out of the gate. So you have no means of know- 
ing which station is yours. One's best and almost only source 
of information is the guide book. I have given up asking peo- 
ple for information ; I refer to the " Satchel Guide to Europe" 
when I want any. 

Yesterday I went to Hampton Court, a short distance out of 
London. I was charmed with the first sight of it. There was 
a great gate with the coat of arms above it. The walls that form 
an angle on each side of you are covered with ivy, and the 
angle is converted into a garden. This was the palace of Car- 
dinal Woolsey, afterwards used by Henry VIII., from which 
Anne Boleyn went to her execution, and where Jane Seymour 
died. After entering the gate, you cross a court to an archway. 
In the archway is a staircase, up which you may go into the 
hall, where the walls are hung with tapestries and the stained 
glass windows contain the pedigree of Henry VIII. and six 
wives. Descending the stairs again, we enter a court with a 
fountain in the center. In an opposite corner we find the 
King's staircase, up which we go to the picture galleries. I say 
we, because I have been overtaken and overrun by a crowd of 
English girls and one man. I imagine it to be a girls' board- 
ing school let loose. One of the girls leans affectionately on me 
while looking about her, for which she apoligizes when she dis- 
covers I am not one of her mates. They are apparently well- 
to-do girls, but oh ! I never saw such a dowdy lot. You never 
see a set of New York shop girls looking like that ; a New York 
•girl will impart style and fit to such clothes- as she may happen 
to have. 

We see some old paintings, many of them portraits of kings 
and queens. We pass from room to room, audience chamber, 



WINDSOR. 287 

bedrooms and reception rooms, till we have seen them all, and 
then return through a series of closets and small apartments, 
and hallways that open on the courtyard. The main rooms 
open on a park, affording 1 a beautiful vista of tree-lined 
avenues spreading- in every direction. We descend, finally, 
by the queens' staircase, opposite the kings'. We pass under a 
third and last archway, and out into the beautiful park. After 
a circular walk, I discover an open side gate, with the legend, 
"To the Vinery," on it, so I walk in. I am lured from the 
straight and narrow path by a long arbor of trees — trees grow- 
ing so closely as to form a perfect tunnel. Having explored 
this I return to the Vinery. It is a hothouse ; you stand in a 
large room of glass, under a canopy formed by one vine, one 
hundred and twenty years old, with more than one thousand 
bunches of grapes depending from it at almost regular intervals. 
It is beautiful. I depart, taking a last admiring glance at the 
ivy grown walls and turrets of the palace. 

London is not as clean as Paris, neither is it as dirty as Jerusa- 
lem. But it seems to be a healthy city. I believe I should get 
fat in London. I have already developed a tremendous appe- 
tite, by degrees. I should be fat now if I had had sense enough 
to go to a hotel where I could select a breakfast from a large 
bill of fare. When I have to evolve a menu out of my head 
I fare very badly. I have made the acquaintance here of the 
neat and trim English maid who "knows her place," and the 
ferocious English cook who rules the house. I spend my last 
days in London in the usual whirl. I stole half a day to run 
out to Windsor, and saw that place most thoroughly. I am 
dead in love with those stately old stone castles. ' ' Stately pile, " 
is the name for Windsor. It is a pile of turrets, the feature of 
the landscape for miles around. 

Birmingham, August 15th.— I left London at 10 A. M. yes- 
terday morning. The guard of the train looked at my ticket, 
and in a surprised voice asked if I was alone, and showed con- 
siderable anxiety on the subject. He had only seen the ticket 
to Birmingham. If he'd seen all the tickets I've got in my 
satchel, he 'd have had a fit. 

There was one lady in the car going to Oxford. She opened 
fire presently. She liked Americans, had been to America, 
and had seen several of the great women travelers, Miss Cum- 



288 STRATFORD-ON-AVON — KENILWORTH. 

mings and Miss Bird. I paraded my travels. She was de- 
lighted ; thought I was so young and so forth. Indeed, she 
kept talking about the American girls in general, their pretti- 
ness and charm, to all of which I agreed you may be sure. 
She laughed and said : " The guard thinks you are a young girl 
on her first trip alone," and thereafter she was hugely amused 
at the guard's anxious inquiries and fatherly smile. He was a 
handsome, benign, gray haired, jolly faced man, the kind I al- 
ways adore. At Leamington I changed cars for Warwick and 
Stratford. Another handsome guard had a fit of anxiety. 

At Stratford-on-Avon I saw the little house where Shake- 
speare was born, and the corner in the fireplace where he used 
to sit. The old house is very intei'esting, with its cracked stone 
floors and tiny diamond panes in the windows. It contains 
many old relics of the bard and his time. Some old copies of 
his plays were as interesting as anything to me. 

On my return journey to Warwick I encountered another 
anxious guard. " Are you alone? " is the perpetual surprised 
remark. He locks me securely in the carand tells me to call on 
him if any one says a word to me. This is at midday. He 
doesn't know that I've been rushing around the world at all 
hours of the night without anybody ever ' ' saying a word " to 
me. At Warwick I am too late to see the Castle. A cabman 
prevails on me to hire him to drive me to Kenilworth and back 
at a very reasonable price. I do not regret it. 

Kenilworth is only too charming. I walked around its 
broken walls and up and down its old stairways, out upon its 
dismantled ramparts, looking down on its ivied walls and green 
carpeted lawn. I do admire it all — this great castle where 
Queen Elizabeth was entertained so royally, and Amy Robsart 
died. I want a ruined castle. I must have a castle. I'm sure 
I shall never be happy until I own a ruin like Kenilworth. It's 
the loveliest thing- in ruins I've seen. I adore ruins — " ru-uns" 
my fellow countrymen frequently call them. 

I have seen nothing so picturesquely beautiful as Kenilworth 
Castle, with its stately granite walls, unroofed, decorated with 
ivy and perforated with lofty Gothic windows, arched gateway 
and great portcullis, and beautiful, grass carpeted sweep within 
the half inclosing walls. Hampton Court was lovely, but not 
so picturesque or courtly as this. Windsor Castle is a stately 



WARWICK CASTLE. 289 

pile from the outside, but the interior that one sees — the state 
apartments — are decidedly shabby, like a second class boarding 
house. But Kenilworth has no tawdry furniture, no faded cur- 
tains nor strips of threadbare carpet to mar it. Nothing 1 is left 
but the stately brown stone and ivy. 

Leaving Kenilworth my cabman drives me through the 
beautiful grounds of Lord Leigh to Stoneleigh Abbey, and then 
on past Leamington, where I pick up my baggage, to Warwick, 
where he confides me to a hotel, the " Woolpack," and where I 
dine and sleep most comfortably, ready to be on the spot when 
Warwick Castle is opened in the morning. 

After all, a castle in good repair is not so bad. Warwick 
Castle is simply beautiful, from its solid gateway up the curved 
road, cut apparently out of rock, the walls rising several feet 
high on either side, covered sometimes with ivy, up to its inner 
gateway, through a long stone arch to the inner grounds and 
portal. This inner lawn, surrounded by stone walls, tower, 
castle and turrets, now clearly outlined, now half hidden by 
the trees and climbing ivy, is the loveliest thing ever seen. We 
are shown the state apartments in the castle. The first room, 
the great reception hall, pleases me the most, with its polished 
stone floor, a beadstead on wheels, and the great fireplace with 
huge logs of wood, ready for a fire when required. This room 
is full of armor, some of Cromwell's and Guy of Warwick's. 
It also has the great punch bowl, said to hold unbelievable gal- 
lons of punch. The other rooms are filled with pictures and 
presents from different parts of the world, and secret doors. 
The view from the windows is delightful, and includes the 
Avon. Leaving the castle proper, I walk across the lawn and 
climb "Guy's Tower," look at the country, and then flee to 
Leamington for my train. I arrive at Birmingham, take a 
hansom and drive around by the hour. Cabby walks his 
horse so I won't miss seeing anything. I remonstrate to some 
purpose. I dine at a "temperance" restaurant. No beer and 
no vegetables. No anything but chops and steaks. England 
has lots of habits of ancient uncivilized days yet. 



SCOTLAND. 

Edinburgh, August lQth. — I arrived here after a long and 
tiresome night on the train, at 7:25 this morning. We passed 
Melrose at 6 :25, and I ought to have got out and spent a couple 
of hours there ; but I had not been able to find out whether 
we stopped there or whether another train would pass to-day, 
or whether I could see the Abbey on Sunday. Even if I had 
known all this, it would have been almost impossible for me to 
take advantage of my knowledge by stopping over one train. I 
was so nearly dead with fatigue, therefore I came on. Arrived 
at Edinburgh I kept up long enough to get a cup of chocolate 
and an egg, and then went to bed, not to sleep, but to rest. I 
took the Satchel Guide-book, my tickets and Bradshaw to bed 
with me, along with various maps. After three hours' study, I 
had worked out my arrivals and departures up to the final 
departure at Queenstown, just one week from to-day, and I've 
got to fly. I've concluded to stay over another day here, and 
go back to Melrose Abbey and see this place properly ; then, 
after doing the Trossachs, I'll simply slide through Glasgow, 
and across the Channel to Belfast. By noon, having my pro- 
gramme all clear in my mind, and an incipient Bradshaw in my 
note-book, I permitted myself to sleep until three. 

The guide-book study was an absolute necessity. I never 
saw such complete and dense ignorance on railroad matters in 
railroad people in my life.. Cook's man, whose business is 
studying time tables, gave me the wrong ticket to a time table 
that did not match. The man in the ticket office of a central 
depot gets out a book and studies it before telling you when a 
train goes or arrives, and isn't sure then, but directs you to 
Cook's for information. Englishmen's stories about signs being 
posted everywhere conveying useful knowledge, all bosh. 

No information to be had for love or money in England. 
The unhappy tourist travels at his own risk. No signs, no 
brakeman of stentorian voice, only one obliging guard, trying 
to be ever present at a dozen carriage doors at once, and mak- 
ing a great failure of it. English railroad management is the 
worst in the world. I have my doubts of Bradshaw, even. 

290 



ABBOTTSFORD. 291 

England is the first place where I have had to study a Brad- 
shaw. In every other place in the world but Austria I've only 
had to tell the porter of the hotel where I wanted to go, and he 
had the time table on the tip of his tongue. America is good 
enough for me. I like the comfortable cars of the Continent, 
the cheap cabs and hansoms, the ever ready porters and the 
careful handling of luggage in Europe. But I yearn to see the 
man at the depot put his head in the door, and shout in a voice 
that commands attention : ' ' W-a-y train for Tenafly, Demarest, 
Closter," etc., and the brakeman open the car door and yell : 
' ' Passengers for Troy, et cetera, cha-nge cars ; passengers for 
Albany please ke-ep their seats." I want to see some of those 
signs set along by the cars with the names of all. stations to be 
stopped at. Give me America for explicit information. I want 
to see a crowded depot once more, too. 

I rose just in time for dinner, where I sat with two Califor- 
nian ladies, in unbroken silence until dessert, and then the 
younger lady could bear it no longer ; she spoke to me, after 
which I did considerable talking. I tell her about my travels 
until her eyes are as big as saucers. It begins as usual : 

" What steamer did you come over on ?" 

" I did not come over." 

"Did not come over !" 

"No, never crossed the Atlantic." 

"And you're an American ?" 

"Yes." "How did you get here then, did you fly?" and 
then all comes out about my travels, and I am a wonder of ab- 
sorbing interest again. I make friends so quickly, I am only 
sorry to have to separate from them so soon. 

I went back to Melrose Abbey the next day, to see the old 
ruin which I found very fine and beautiful as a piece of archi- 
tecture, but not knowing anything about architecture, I failed to 
see the extreme and excessive beauty my guide-book raves over. 
I like Kenilworth the best. My Satchel Guide also mentioned 
" Abbottsford," acquaintances talked of " Abbottsford," and 
carriage men agreed in favor of "Abbottsford." Finally I 
gave in to the general cry, and went to see this wonderful 
"Abbottsford," and very glad I was that I had done so. Ab- 
bottsford, the home of Sir "Walter Scott, proved to be a very 
lovely place. The writer's rooms are kept just as he used them. 



292 EDINBURGH. 

They are very pleasant rooms and filled with souvenirs of re- 
nowned men, curiosities from foreign lands, pictures of, and 
presents from, his friends and daughters. It was more interest- 
ing than a museum. 

It was not until I had got out of the depot and was driving 
to the hotel, that I awoke to the fact that Edinburgh is a very 
beautiful place. It is a curious and quaint old city, remarkably 
clean as to streets, and built on hills and in valleys around a 
central hill where looms the castle, beneath whose granite 
walls spread a beautiful public park, into which all the hotels 
in the city seem to look. I think Edinburgh is the prettiest, 
most picturesque and cleanest city in the world, and so de- 
liciously quaint and antique without being decayed. What a 
stronghold this castle, that sits up on the hilltop, must have 
been in olden time ! No enemy could hope to scale the precipit- 
ous granite sides of that palisade. Holyrood is an interesting 
place, abbey and fortress too. Many beautiful monuments 
adorn the city. There is one to Mary, Queen of Scots, opposite 
Holyrood ; an Albert memorial and monuments to Sir Walter 
Scott, Robert Burns and Lord Nelson. In a courtyard back of 
a church is the grave of Thomas Knox. 

At Holyrood I saw the pictures of ancient Scots, among 
others, Macbeth, Malcom and Duncan, Robert Bruce and Doug- 
las, also Mary Stuart, the lovely Queen of Scots. I went 
through Lord Darnley's rooms, saw the secret staircase, and 
climbed the other stair to Queen Mary's rooms. The rooms 
look bare and comfortless now, and far from suitable for a 
Queen, but they say she had* them filled with rugs and lovely 
things. 

After looking at the ruined abbey, I repaired to the Castle, 
that apparently impregnable fortress which overlooks the town 
from the top of a hill that rises direct, with unscalable granite 
sides, from the center of the city. After entering several gates, 
we cross a bridge over a moat and enter some more gates, and 
finally we reach the inner courtyard of the Castle. Our guide 
regales us at every step with tales of the betrayal of Douglas or 
Bruce. Within the Castle, we find again the rooms of Mary 
Stuart, cramped, bare and dingy. We go into the treasury 
and look at one lonely crown, a broach or so, and a scepter — 
pitiful array, after all the richness I have seen in Russia. But 



THE TEOSSACHS. 293 

I've seen no beggars or wretched houses, or miserable people in 
Scotland, so I don't find fault. 

At five o'clock on the morning of August 18th, I arose and 
departed gaily for the Trossachs. After a tedious journey we ar- 
rived at Callenclar. From Callendar we went to Lock Katrine 
by coach, through the lake on steamer, and then by coach again 
to a place on Lock Lomond, and then by train to Glasgow, 
eight changes in one day. The drivers on the coaches indicated 
the points of interest, and recited selections from ' ' The Lady of 
the Lake." 

I was rather disappointed in the Trossachs. I had been told 
in England I should see the loveliest scenery in the world. 
One who has spent his life in London, and judges from the 
standpoint of Ludgate Hill and Hyde Park, might well admire 
it, but to me, who have seen the grandest sights the world 
holds, it was the least pretty of any of the famous scenery. 
The Trossachs are low, bare and ungainly. The setting of the 
lake is too tame to be very beautiful. The lakes do not com- 
pare with the Italian lakes or those in Switzerland. Most of 
the scenery was very ordinary ; prettier than the dry corn- 
stalk plains of Ohio and Illinois, to be sure ; very pretty in 
spots indeed, taken by themselves, but not pretty enough to 
" set the world on fire." Many of the places we were called 
upon to admire were long, low barren hills, without abruptness 
to make them picturesque, height tomake them grand, or ver- 
dure to give them color. There is not much beauty to me in a 
gray, treeless slope. However, there were some pretty bits of 
greenness here and there, and an occasional strip of road under 
the trees that was delightful. 



IRELAND. 

Reaching Glasgow, I flew to Cook's adjacent office for infor- 
mation — information not to be got with any accuracy at the 
depot ; then I remove myself and baggage to the proper depot, 
get some dinner, ' ' take a walk around the block, " and then wait 
patiently for my 10 P. M. train, for I propose to cross the Irish 
Channel this night. Really it does amuse me to see myself loaf- 
ing around depots at all hours, changing cars at midnight, al- 
ways calm and comfortable and safe. I put the most implicit 
confidence in porters and they take every care of me. No one 
ever molests me ; people look at me curiously as I go about 
alone, but no one disturbs me. I have never had occasion to 
feel uneasy. I dreaded the trip across the Channel, but found 
on reaching the steamer that she was clean and most comfort- 
ably fitted up. I had the ladies' saloon all to myself and woke 
up on the Irish coast, after a perfectly smooth passage. Got into 
Belfast just in time to catch my 6:10 A. M. train to Portrush, 
thence by electric car to Giant's Causeway. 

In transit from depot to depot in Belfast I made the acquaint- 
ance of the Irish car and driver. . Car-driving is novel and in- 
teresting. The imminent prospect of finding yourself lying on 
the roadside at every corner lends an excitement to the drive 
that is positively enchanting. Irishmen are worse frauds than 
heathens. Indians and Arabs are bad enough, but an Irishman 
can "see" their grasping swindles and " go them several bet- 
ter." A stranger must pay four prices. The importunity to 
make useless purchases and give serviceless fees is dreadful — 
worse than Egypt or the East generally. One peculiar feature of 
the begging is that not a word is spoken. In the East you are 
assailed with the everlasting cry of " Backsheesh ; " in Ireland- 
you are followed by a silent horde for miles, who only smile at 
you persuasively. When coaching, while changing horses, the 
hostlers at the horses' heads implore us not to forget them. 

But to return to the Giant's Causeway. I went as far as I 
could toward that place on the electric car on which everybody 
was deeply interested in our locomotive power, and promul- 
gating all sorts of curious theories about 'its action and dangers, 



giant's causeway. 295 

Finally we reached the end of the railway, and took to the car 
again, the original "low-backed car." I made acquaintance 
here with a native of the country, a young girl of the better 
class, but oh ! all classes seem to have the brogue and heaving, 
sprawling walk of an Irish washerwoman I used to have. They 
are pleasant and social, however. 

I took a guide and boat, and went rowing along the coast and 
into the famous caves. Looking at it from aboVe or below, there 
is nothing pretty, picturesque or interesting about the Giant's 
Causeway. There is a palisade of very ordinary height that 
looks like an organ, the bluff being composed of regular pillars 
of uniform size and varying length. You are told these pillars 
are known to be hundreds of feet in length, and no one knows 
how much more. At one point the pillars are curved as if they 
had once been softened and a heavy weight had bent them. 
When, however, you go ashore and walk on the ends of these 
pillars, you begin to be surprised. You are climbing on steps 
formed of the cut off ends of hundreds of granite columns, 
standing wedged tightly in together, yet each distinct from the 
other, with acute sides that fit one against the other. There are 
octagons and all the other kinds of 'gons, and no two alike, and 
yet they fit each other perfectly and are as clean cut as if made 
by a sculptor. They arrange themselves in groups of eight ; 
each stone is different in size and cut. How in the world they 
ever came there is unknown. They are presumed to be of vol- 
canic formation. They look like so many angular pillars of 
stone cut out and stacked up together, like piles in a dock, to 
construct innumerable Greek temples and churches with. Their 
height is unknown, but as they are dug out they come off in 
sections, the upper end of each section being always concave 
and the lower end convex. They say there is a similar forma- 
tion on the Scotch coast opposite. It is the most curious and 
unaccountable natural formation in the world. 

At the hotel here we are asked what we will have with use- 
less formality, for the bill of fare has been already decided on 
by the cook and there is no departing from it possible. One 
Englishman asks for duck, but comes down gracefully to boiled 
beef and cabbage. Returning to the cars I get a front seat on a 
very much overloaded coach to the electric railway. There are 
some drawbacks to this electric car. It stops at the end of the 



396 A LOVELY IRISH GIRL. 

electric part of the road, a quarter of a mile from the depot, and 
can go no farther. The more independent steam engine is at the 
other end. "We, the passengers, want to catch a train, so "we walk 
this intervening space in hot haste. I get on the cars and am 
joined at a later depot by a lady and gentleman with the prettiest 
kind of a little girl. A neat coachman waits upon them and 
addresses the man as " My Lord." Good gracious ! who am I 
traveling with now ? 

I reach Belfast at five P. M. and leave again on the train for 
Dublin at seven the following morning. A young man from 
Berlin shares the railway carriage with me. He has been to 
New York and likes it, and is astonished at my being alone ; 
asks if he . can assist me with my luggage, and is astonished 
again at my traveling so "light." Says his sister couldn't 
travel alone any more than she could fly, and when she does 
travel she fills the racks with her luggage. Says he himself 
never travels alone ; would be afraid to travel without a serv- 
ant. Agrees with me, however, that the servant has to be 
looked after and is a nuisance generally. 

I reach Dublin at last, get a car-man to drive me about 
Phoenix Park, see the spot where Lord Cavendish was mur- 
dered ; drive to the King's Bridge depot, get some dinner and 
am off again on the cars for Killarney. I don't want to stay in 
any Irish city long. They are more unpleasant than Bergen 
in Norway ; they are so dirty and poverty stricken. My drive 
to Phcenbc Park was through drove after drove of cattle, a cat- 
tle market being situated near the park. On the train to Kil- 
larney I meet a fat old Irish woman who loves to travel, has 
been all over Europe and is delighted with my journey. I do 
nothing but tell my travels ; everybody is curious about me, 
seeing me alone, and I tell my story with a good deal of frank- 
ness and pride as I am questioned. I change cars at Mallow. 

While waiting on the platform I see the beautiful Irish girl. 
Many are the heretical remarks I have read about Dion Bouci- 
cault's lovely Irish girl ; but here she is a living fact, lovely as 
can be, a raving beauty ; black, wavy hair, great dark eyes, deli- 
cate mouth and fresh, clear skin. I can't take my eyes off her. 
I walk around her and take up a position against a pillar to get a 
better view of her sweet face as she chats with a friend. Three or 
four young men, fascinated like me, notice my movement and 



KILLARNEY. 297 

laugh and comment among themselves on the curiosity of one 
woman admiring another. I tear myself away from the beau- 
tiful creature and proceed on to Killarney, where I arrive at 
9:30 P. M.; am taken in a hotel bus and driven some miles, it 
seems to me, into the country before reaching the hotel. I be- 
gin to think they mean to take me on to Glengarif when they 
finally draw up. Now, I've reached the stamping ground of 
the tourist. The bouse is filled ; the piano is in full blast. 

If I am going to sail on the Servia, I've not a day to lose. 
I need not sail on the lakes, for I find I can see all from the 
vantage point of the upper deck of a stage coach en route for 
Glengarif fortunately. Killarney was very pretty, and the 
drive to Glengarif, and Glengarif itself likewise, prettier than 
the Trossachs, I think, but still not a ' ' patch " on the beautiful 
places I've seen. Ireland and Scotland are very tame after the 
Straits of Magellan, interior mountainous Japan, the Himalayas, 
Italian lakes, beautiful Switzerland and Norway, not to men- 
tion Ceylon and Java. 

Upon the stage coach I was seated amongst a Scotch family, 
a girl beside me, her young brother opposite, and father and 
uncle alongside. And they prove to be most delightful compan- 
ions. Never have I had a more intelligently interested audi- 
ence. They knew something of each country as I spoke of 
them. They questioned me and drew me out and were delighted 
with my voyages. They had a keen sense of humor and were 
convulsed with extracts from Mark Twain, whom they have 
read in part and enjoyed. I entertained them all the way, and 
was finally sorry to part with them at the hotel, which was full. 

I had to go to the next, not having taken the precaution to 
telegraph my arrival. The girl invited me most cordially to 
stay with her. They shook hands with me all around and told 
me to be sure and come back to them, if I could not get other 
accommodations. The other hotel not only took me in, but 
turned out to be the best. I rushed headlong into an acquaint- 
ance with a young Englishman who sat next to me, who 
had been to South Africa (I want to go to South Africa, too). 
Young man's mother hovered near protectively but pleasantly. 

At half-past six in the morning the coach comes along with 
my Scotch friends, and I climb up to a seat beside them and we 
fly merrily along to Bantry, where we take the train for Cork. 



298 BLARNEY OASTLE. 

We reach Cork at eleven, put our baggage in the luggage room 
and start off. My Scotch friends and I go to Blarney Castle in 
a car. It's not particularly worth the finding, but we religiously 
hunt up the blarney stone and then return to Cork. The ride 
is quite pretty. My Scotch friends are about sailing for their 
home, Glasgow, from Cork, their short vacation tour being 
just ended as my long one is. For once I am the one who stands 
on the wharf and waves good-by to departing friends. They 
rank with the nicest people I have met. I liked them, and they 
liked me, and a few hours together had developed a strong 
friendship. I discovered the girl was a step-daughter of the 
man, and he must be the exceptional step-father that proves the 
rule of bad ones, for there are few real fathers as good and uni- 
formly genial and indulgent as this man was to the children of 
his dead wife who had no claim of blood relationship on him. I 
have a particular admiration, anyway, for a man who takes a 
couple of young people off on a vacation tour with him, instead 
of going off with some boon companions to have a good time by 
himself ; and finds his enjoyment, too, in the innocent, harm- 
less pleasure suited to their years and sex. I have heard a lot 
about Scotch thrift and closeness, but there was no closeness 
visible here. They were as generous and whole-souled a set as 
our frank-hearted, open-handed Californians — a bright, intelli- 
gent, well-informed, witty and united family. Vive la Scot ! 

After seeing my friends off, I find my proper depot, get my 
baggage transferred by a good-looking Irish boy, get something 
to eat at an adjacent hotel, and take the train for Queenstown. 
My last trip on this side of the Atlantic. I reach Queenstown, 
get a boy to convey my baggage to the hotel, which is close at 
hand, and here I spend my last night in this old country ! 



HOMEWARD. 

I have had lovely weather in Ireland and Scotland, and now 
the eventful, long expected morning of the 23d of August 
dawns brighter and clearer than ever. The Servia is lying at 
anchor in the bay. I walk down to the steam launch that is to 
take me off. Some hundreds of passengers are just discharg- 
ing themselves from her with a view to getting a glimpse of 
Ireland before the next and last tug goes off. And Queenstown 
is a very pretty place. The houses on the abrupt coast over- 
looking the bay appear to be built on top of one another. Pres- 
ently I am on board the Servia. My stateroom proves better 
than I anticipated ; my luggage is all on hand and in good 
order. Having satisfied myself on these points I return to 
the deck to take my last look at the "old country," which, 
while I have enjoyed it very much, I am only too happy to 
be leaving. 

And now I am at sea and it is the 25th of August. I have 
seen my last sight, changed cars for the last time, left the last 
hotel, and am rapidly and surely approaching the end of this 
long and pleasant voyage of mine. My stateroom is comforta- 
ble, my room mate fair, fat, French, perhaps not forty, but 
along there, good natured and sensible. My table friends are 
an elderly couple who are distinctively American, bright and 
interesting. I have recognized among the people the three 
girls I encountered between Naples and Pompeii and the Eng- 
lishman I sat with two days on the box seat of the stage coach 
coming out of the Yosemite Valley more than a year ago. The 
weather is fine, sea smooth, decks crowded. I am quite charmed 
with the friends I have made. We sit together on deck and 
play chess and whist in the evening, winding up the entertain- 
ment with a Welch rarebit and beer. The lady adores Bret 
Harte as I do, and is literary and Bohemian in her tastes. My 
room mate says everybody exclaims when she points me out ; 
"Why, she is only a young girl." 

We are on the "banks." The weather is excessively disa^ 
greeable, rainy and chilly. The rough shoal seas here are, 
beginning to make a little impression on the great steamer. 

399 



300 MY LAST VOYAGE. 

Still she is the steadiest steamer I ever traveled on. She is so 
crowded, however, that there is no place to be comfortable in. 
Rows on rows of chairs on deck make walking a disjointed and 
hazardous undertaking. Even now, in this bad weather, there 
is no alternative for many of the passengers between the wet, 
comfortless deck and the narrow compass of their staterooms. 

My heart reverts with many a pleasant recollection from this 
last to the first steamer voyage of my world's tour, to that 
beautiful "Social hall," with its lovely gray velvet cushions 
and brocaded curtains ; with its four comfortable corners for 
the four passengers during that first week of storm, to the 
beautiful succeeding days in the tropical seas ; and the jolly six 
at table, all bent on having a pleasant time ; to the evenings 
on deck or in the " Social hall," where we told stories while 
we held on to the cushions tooth and nail, and braced ourselves 
for coming rolls. 

At Home, September 1st. — The last day or two on board ship 
were at once delightful and anxious. I had no more time to 
write or think. My Californian acquaintance and I renewed 
our friendship. He introduced me to several pleasant Eng- 
lishmen. An American clergyman had also become deeply in- 
terested in my singular voyage. I talked straight through the 
last three days. The night before we sighted America the suc- 
cess of the book they said I must write, and all of my future 
enterprises was drank in champagne by my friends. Yesterday 
afternoon as we neared New York, I was so absorbed in look- 
ing for familiar landmarks that I nearly missed my dinner. 

Nearly at the end of our voyage, it was my turn to be anx- 
ious and in a hurry ; it was my turn to look excitedly for a 
familiar coast and point out objects of interest to foreigners. 
We had passed Fh*e Island, Sandy Hook, Rockaway, where 
still loomed up the grand " Rockaway Hotel," and beyond 
lay Coney Island, with the Observatory traced delicately 
against the slowly darkening sky ; and presently the lamps 
shone out as we approached the Narrows, and Coney Island 
was a glittering belt. On we came, up through the Nar- 
rows and then we dropped anchor for the night. It was too 
late for the health officers, and too dark to see anything but 
the shore lights and the Coney Island boats, brilliant with 
electric lights as they went by. So we calmly went below and 



HOME. 301 

retired for the last time into the little staterooms, to sleep, des- 
pite the noisy preparations for to-morrow's unloading. 

I rose at an early hour and went on deck full of expectancy, 
to see that face first that I saw last when I sailed out of, instead 
of into, this harbor nineteen months ago ; to receive the wel- 
come home and the shock of an unexpected bereavement ; to 
say good-bys to the many pleasant friends ; to receive con- 
gratulations ; to pass tediously through the last Custom House, 
and then to drive home, arriving there not as I had expected to 
do, in unalloyed joy at being home again, but in tears for the 
absence of the cheering welcome of the father who has passed 
behind the dark curtain of death, the knowledge of which has 
only reached me to-day. 

And thus ended, though in tears, still successfully, my long, 
long journey around the world. 



THE UNITED STATES. 

After seeing many other countries, I desired to know more of 
my own. 

While I have found so much that is comfortable, charming 
and interesting, in other lands, the results of my observations in 
this one have filled me with patriotism and pride. America is 
new, undeniably new. It hasn't any ruined castles, but it has 
some of the finest scenery in the world ; and our traveling 
accommodations are unequaled on the globe. Charles Dickens 
and other English writers have criticised us severely, and their 
criticisms were not undeserved ; but America is pre-eminently 
a land of progress, and the improvement of even a few years is 
almost marvelous. In the comfort and conveniences of living 
as well as of traveling we now excel every other nation. 

Leaving New York early in June, skirting the banks of the 
majestic Hudson, rushing through the valley of the Mohawk 
and gliding along the shore of Lake Erie, and across the plains 
of southern Michigan, I reach Chicago. It is a handsome city, 
with fine broad avenues lined with great houses of stone and 
iron, looming up toward the sky. A drive discloses many 
beautiful residences. Most artistically laid out in drives and 
lawns, decorated with flowers and foliage, is Chicago's beauti- 
ful park, skirted by Lake Michigan, which lies gray and glit- 
tering under the sun, stretching out beyond the reach of the 
eye. Altogether, Chicago is a bright and pleasant place in 
which to rest before proceeding westward. 

Once on the train again, there is little to lure the traveler 
between Chicago and Denver. If you travel from choice and 
not from necessity, you are as glad to be on the road again as 
you were to rest a day, for to the born traveler there is nothing 
quite so satisfactory as motion. When the train moves out of 
the depot, or the steamer leaves her wharf, then is such a per- 
son truly happy, whether just arranging the small baggage in 
the seats of the sleeper, or sniffing the fresh breeze of the sea 
from the vessel's deck. 

On, across the broad, red, muddy Mississippi River, through 
Iowa, where "it is so wet that a man can't live any more than 

302 



TO THE RGCKY MOUNTAINS. 303 

a year or two without getting web footed ; " across the equally 
red and muddy Missouri and through Nebraska, where the 
"grasshoppers are so thick that they stop the cars," to Colorado, 
and the outline of the Rocky Mountains emerges from the hori- 
zon in the distance, looking like the puckered-up edge of pie 
crust bounding this broad, undulating, pie-like plain. 

Travelers are frequently disappointed in the appearance of 
the far-famed "Rockies." Seen from across the great plains 
their dim outlines are not imposing. Distance and perspective 
reduce them to mere foothills, and it is not until near and 
among them that you are impressed by their height and 
grandeur. 

From Chicago to Denver was once a territory of cornstalks 
and barren plains. But with the advance of immigration and 
civilization it has become a pretty and fertile country. Where 
once were endless fields of unromantic cornstalks are now green 
banks and pretty villages. The cornstalks have gone further 
West to "grow up with the country." Even the plains that 
were once bare and desolate are now carpeted with green and 
bright with wild flowers, among which plump, rabbit-like little 
prairie dogs disport. 

Denver is pretty. The city is scattered loosely about instead of 
being compactly built, and therefore spreads itself over a wide 
expanse of territory. The streets are broad, and cost but little 
to keep in order, as they remain hard and smooth without pav- 
ing because of a peculiar quality of the soil. 

Leaving Denver in the morning, three hours brings us, via 
the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad, into the Rocky Moun- 
tains, passing Castle Rock and Palmer Lake, and stopping at 
Colorado Springs, where there are many beautiful drives and 
several springs to visit. The roads all about are smooth and 
hard, and the teams at the stables very good. Manitou is within 
easy driving distance, although one can go there by rail. 

At Manitou are iron and soda springs. It is a strictly tem- 
perance place. There is a sign on a refreshment house there 
which is almost as pathetic as it is honest. It reads thus : 
"Barley water and bad cigars." Another sign on the out- 
side of a canvas tent where candy is sold reads : ' ' Ice cream 
Parlor," which seems to describe it rather extravagantly to say 
the least. 



304 GARDEN OF THE GODS. 

The drives leading up into the narrow canons and through 
Monument Park are very fine. Monument Park is a plateau 
with groups of large rocks and perpendicular slabs of granite of 
grotesque shape standing upon it. The Garden of the Gods is 
similar, the great chunks of granite bearing peculiar resem- 
blances that give them names such as the "Bear and the Seal" 
and the "Lady of the Canon." Most of the rock is of a deep 
red and yellow sandstone. 

The canons are exceedingly beautiful. Driving into them, 
the walls grow higher and steeper, and you seem to have 
reached the end of the road constantly as the walls close in 
before you ; but, as in the Italian lakes and the Norwegian 
fiords, it opens up as you approach, showing another stretch of 
canon still narrower and still grander. 

Leaving Colorado Springs, all one's anticipation is centered 
on the glorious scenery we are soon to pass through. For the 
Denver and Rio Grande possesses the great attraction of running 
directly through the finest part of the Colorado scenery. But 
it is still several hours off, and I have leisure to observe my 
fellow passengers. 

In the opposite seat of my section sat the Pullman conductor 
— a gentle young Eastern fledgling, apparently consumptive, 
hoping for restored health from the bracing Colorado air. In 
the section opposite a bright, intelligent, handsome woman, who 
is going to visit a Mormon lady — a sixth wife — at Salt Lake. 
Opposite her is an extremely long, pale, crushed-strawberry 
haired young man, who is contemplating with much dissatis- 
faction the limits of the panels above him, which are to form 
the under crust of the niche he is destined to fill to overflowing 
this night. The next section contains an elderly woman and 
her daughter, a well-developed girl of exceedingly blonde com- 
plexion and brown eyes of most curious expression. Behind 
them a very disagreeable old man who had secured a whole 
section and was obliged to give part of it up to an old lady who 
happened to know him, of which piece of generosity he babbles 
endlessly. A woman and a boy are in the next section. Behind 
me an Englishman and his wife. He is of conspicuously sport- 
ing aspect — a pugilist, I should say. But, oh ! where are those 
Englishmen who said Americans abroad were such ' ' bad form ? " 
Our deepest, wildest wilderness cannot produce anything so 



FELLOW TRAVELERS. 305 

grotesquely glaring 1 as this pair, their appearance and their 
dress. Behind them a little married couple of the purest 
American type. On the other side a woman with her boy, both 
seasick. Next a family of grown folks and children, one a tiny 
girl with laughing, dimpled face, and the sweetest blue eyes in 
the world. Besides the stationary people are a floating element 
of two women and a boy, who had insisted on traveling on the 
car, although there were no vacant berths to be allotted to them 
until midnight, and were growling about it. They came and 
occupied my section for awhile, and with something of an air 
of humor ran down the road and management, while the fledg- 
ling conductor sat and listened with an occasional gleam of 
comprehension in his dark consumptive eyes. 

The fixed idea of sleeping car travelers seems to be that they all 
ought to be supplied with lower berths. As half of the berths 
obstinately insist on being upper, there is great dissatisfaction if 
the car is more than half full. These women particularly had 
the most rooted objection to upper berths, and an inexpugnable 
belief that the conductor ought to go through the car and see if 
there was a single unfortunate man in possession of a lower 
berth, and if so evict him at once for their benefit. 

It has been my misfortune to meet some women who seem 
to think that a man has no kind of human right as against their 
selfish fancies. To me there is nothing lovelier than the gener- 
ous courtesy extended by the stronger sex to, may I say, the 
finer ? But if there is one sight to me more mortifying than 
another it is woman arrogating to herself such unselfish court- 
esy as a right. This was the kind of women these two were. 
After they had worn the berth question threadbare, they fell 
upon each other and quarreled and taunted and teased, with 
exterior good humor, howbeit, and only a gleam now and then 
of the real bad temper underneath. 

One of these women was a type I have seen more than once. 
She had a handsome, placid face and an outer air of amiability 
that had earned for her the reputation of good nature and unself- 
ishness. But beneath she was pure egotist, a selfish and unchari- 
table cynic. Sitting there next her, hour after hour, and hearing 
her cool, caustic replies to her friend and seeing her glance of 
utter ill-humor, I knew her to be a woman that I should hate with 
fierce, undying hatred should I be obliged to see much of her. 



306 GRAND CANON OF THE ARKANSAS. 

How confidential people grow after thirty-six hours in a Pull- 
man car. And how one will be drawn into frank acquaintance- 
ship after enjoying for twenty-four hours that solitude only to 
be found in a crowd. A young girl was just describing to me 
the exact kincl of man she wanted to marry and the particular 
amount of affection she should require from him, when, as her 
tones grew obliviously loud with her intense interest in the sub- 
ject, I glanced at the fragile young conductor and caught him 
twisting his face in an agonizing effort to crush a laugh that was 
struggling for utterance. He was looking the other way, and 
even after I said, "He has heard every word," and the girl was 
disowning every sentiment expressed as fast as she could, he made 
a brave effort to drive the laugh back. But it was no use ; he 
broke down under my scrutiny, and laughed it out and confessed. 

Way up in the mountains there we observed a curioxis for- 
mation of cones of clear sand, large and small. The small ones 
are supposed to have been made by ants, the larger ones by 
whirlwinds. The formations are precisely the same in appear- 
ance, only varying in size. 

After circulating around the outskirts of the Rockies for a 
while, our train plunged directly in among them, and presently 
we entered the Grand Canon of the Arkansas. And very grand 
we found it, this long, deep, winding crevice in the earth, whose 
walls of red and yellow sandstone stretch up perpendicularly 
2, 000 feet toward the sky, that is but a strip of blue above us. 
The train does not run very fast here, and they might run slower 
and still not displease the passengers. As it is, we try to look 
above, behind, before and below us all at once, in the vain 
effort to catch the complete picture. The Royal Gorge is the 
narrowest part of this canon, but all of the long, sinuous canon 
is so beautiful it is hard to distinguish one part of it as finer 
than another. As magnificent as the scenery is, there is nothing 
to make one nervous about it. As we look up to the top of those 
grim walls of stone we are much better pleased to be running 
smoothly along at their feet, beside the winding river, than to be 
standing up at the top there looking down. The road through 
here is one of the greatest triumphs of civil engineering in the 
world. 

Later on we take to climbing. Around about and up the 
mountains we go, at the steepest of grades, now shooting into 



A PICTURE OF SOLEMN GRANDEUR. 307 

a snowshed for a little, then out again and around and about, 
higher and higher, looking below us at the track recently 
traversed and across the valley high above at the track we are 
expected to get around to presently ; and we do, gliding around 
the muleshoe curve and on to the top of Marshall Pass. Look- 
ing back we see four lines of roads, sections of the spiral we 
have just ascended. 

But the finest picture of all is to come, and many are the 
lamentations because we are to pass the grandest part of the 
road, the Black Canon, at night. It is 11 P. M. when we enter 
this famous canon. The moon is full, however, and shining 
brightly down into the dark chasm, lending a weird charm to 
the scene, touching the prominent peaks with silver light and 
making the deep, dark corners gloomier by contrast, while the 
rushing Gunnison River glitters brightly under its rays as it 
rolls turbulently on. The canon is very narrow, the walls 
looming vip grandly, sometimes shelving over the train. Our 
way is very winding. We cross and recross the roaring 
river several times, dashing from one side to the other on iron 
trestle bridges and around curves, with an ever changing pic- 
ture of solemn grandeur about us. Great walls of granite 
looming above us ; falls tumbling down them to the already 
riotous river below, and then before us rises a mighty monu- 
ment of stone, a cone of solid granite pointing to the sky — the 
famous Curricanti Needle. 

We leave the Gunnison River to go plunging down the 
Black Cafion, following up the Cimarron Creek which has 
added its waters to the Gunnison, and presently we are out of 
the mountains and speeding across a vast verdureless, billowy 
plain, hedged around with sharply cut cliffs. 

Next morning we find ourselves running through the great 
Utah Desert, which is bounded by a range of cliffs cut sharply 
and ridged and guttered as if with rushing water. The sand 
looks baked and cracked, and is here and there swept up in 
ridges and hummocks and cones as if by whirlwinds. It has 
the appearance of having once been a sea. 

We see the azure cliffs, and later, Castle Gate, as the two 
great sandstone pillars guarding the entrance to Price River 
Cafion are called, and we are in the heart of the Wahsatch 
Mountains. Having crossed them, we speed again across level 



308 SALT LAKE CITY. 

plains, bare but for cactus, and the rest of the trip to Salt 
Lake is marked only by fatigue and dust. 

At Salt Lake City, a young married couple and myself, 
strangers Until then, joined forces and took an open tourist car 
for the beach, to bathe in the Great Salt Lake. 

Of course we were on the lookout for Mormons, and eyed 
with suspicion any man who was accompanied by more than 
one woman, quite forgetful of the fact that we were two young 
women with one unfortunate young man between us, and 
therefore, by the same rule, clearly Mormons. But for the 
most part we saw women and children together, and a few men 
and young boys. Two boys behind me were telling of an 
acquaintance's second marriage, and how the first wife had 
taken it, and the progression of another courtship, and whether 
"she" cared anything about "him" or not. Two women and 
three children sat in front of me, a similar family in front of 
them, and again in front women and children of one family. 
Behind me were three women with children, and further back 
two seats were occupied with a large party of women and 
children, judging by their sociability, of two different families. 
There was little talk ; all the light chatter and sociability that 
should naturally distinguish such a pleasure trip to the shore 
were absent. To us, who had only gone on such excursions 
with friends and for a social outing, there was sadness in the 
inertness and silence of these people. 

The women were clad in calico, and their relative positions 
in the family scale were marked by some extra bit of finery. 
For instance one wore a bright new bonnet, while that of her 
sister wife's was shabby ; another wore a faded common shawl, 
while the younger wife had a pretty new zephyr wrap that con- 
trasted strangely with her coarse dress. And they were all men 
and women of a coarser fiber than any Caucasian people I had 
met outside of Utah, and apparently lower in the scale of 
humanity. In the women is seen the coarseness of undeveloped 
intelligence, of eternal drudgery, bearing the impress of writh- 
ing hearts out of which rebellion and morality had been all but 
crushed. Their hands were rough and hard with labor. They 
are not unkind to each other, these woman ; there was a con- 
sideration for each other that was apparently natural and recip- 
rocal, as of fellow sufferers under the same immutable law. 



MORMONS. 309 

Over and over again I heard one woman say to another whose 
child had got mixed up with hers, ' ' Do you want Ella with 
you?" And the answer being usually "yes," the child was 
passed over to its own mother. In this way the children were 
kept separate while together. Never were more pitiful sights 
of union and disunion, never sadder examples of crushed and 
broken womanhood. 

I have seen poor and hard working people out for a day's 
pleasure in many countries ; and no people perhaps enjoy their 
rare picnic or holiday as do the poorest and hardest worked peo- 
ple? But here, in Utah, was none of that boisterous and rude 
humor that naturally distinguishes their uncultivated ideas of 
pleasure. There were no heavy jokes, no clumsy chaffing, no 
laughter, no spontaneous conversation or pleasure in the society 
of one with the other ; all was dead and lifeless, and overhung 
with the gloom of sorrow and hard work. 

The whole life here is to me inconceivably sad. The families 
of women and children living and going about together with 
hearts and souls crushed and necessarily asunder ; the homes 
with two front doors ; the rows of from two to five or six, per- 
haps more houses together ; the porches with one man and 
two women resting in them in the cool of the day, silent and 
distrait ; the double house, with a woman sad and lonely on 
one porch, while her husband, with the other wife, is laughing 
and chatting on the other. 

And yet, reflecting on these rows of houses, the building of 
each addition of which has wrung some woman's heart, I 
thought after all what better are we than they ? This is bad 
enough and sad enough, and the United States certainly ought 
to interfere in behalf of these women as it did in behalf of those 
other slaves of darker skin once held and tortured in this free 
country. 

But is Utah the only place in this great country of ours where 
polygamy is practiced ? Is this the only spot where men main- 
tained marriage relations with several women at one time ? Is 
Salt Lake City the only one where women's hearts are broken ? 
It is bad enough here, God knows, but there is a redeeming 
feature. There are no drunken, reckless, cast-off women, sacri- 
ficed, crushed, wholly depraved and scorned and scoffed at and 
despised by the fortunate few who enjoy comfort and protection, 



310 THE DEGRADATION OP WOMEN. 

and good names. Here all names are good, and if there be any 
immorality, as I think, and depravity, they are all situated alike 
on an equal basis, and none can flout her sister women for pos- 
sessing less virtue than herself. 

To me it is all sad and demoralizing. The life together of 
many wives of one man is necessarily so. It must be the death 
of delicacy and of the finer emotions and sentiments. It is 
degrading to the women and demoralizing to the men, as any 
condition of master and slaves must always be, and in Utah the 
sex relation is reduced to that, obedience and resignation to 
suffering being the leading features of the religious teaching of 
the women. 

To be sure, the situation of these women lacks that degrading 
monetary consideration which destroys the self-respect and 
reduces to the gutter our unfortunate women. In Utah every 
woman works hard to support herself and children and enhance 
her husband's means. Their symbol of the beehive is a good 
one, only the drones are masculine, and it is the women who 
work busily making honey for his kingship. Yes, I'd like to 
have an end put to the iniquities of Utah. I would like to have 
an end put to similar iniquities all over the world. "They are 
against the law ? " Are they ? Yes, but how often is the law 
enforced ? Oh, yes, it is against the law to marry more than 
one woman, but a man may mislead and desert and send to 
death and destruction a dozen unhappy girls with impunity. 
The law doesn't care how many girls ai'e ruined ; all it is par- 
ticular about is that a few words of legal or religious sanction 
shall not be said over more than one of them with the same man. 

In Utah they only destroy happiness and moral perception, in 
our States they blight the character, and ruin the future lives 
as well. In Utah women have the consolation, if consolation 
it is, of believing that they are fulfilling the divine instruction, 
and while they suffer here they have hopes of a heaven here- 
after. Our unfortunates not only suffer here and become out- 
casts, but they are doomed to eternal perdition after this life. 
It is a question after all which system results in the most suffer- 
ing. Our social system preserves the fairest exterior, certainly, 
but ah, how many aching hearts are hidden beneath, and how 
much deeper is the degradation of our degraded. Had we not 
better, while we are pressing the Mormons of Utah to the wall, 



MORMON TEMPLES. 311 

purge the Mormonism that exists in the "States," and which 
exists in the more distressing form because it is without the 
Mormons' religion and without their principle? I think we 
had. 

However, we were on our way to take a bath in the Great 
Salt Lake, that mysterious inland sea that apparently has 
neither source nor outlet. Our little train ran across some sandy 
flats for an hour before we reached the beach, where we found 
bathing houses and suits. The bath fully realized our anticipa- 
tions. The water was a little chilly, but so heavy with salt that 
one floats on the top rather too easily ; it is hard work to keep 
under enough to swim. This makes the bathing delightful to 
timid people. One has not that sensation of sinking, and confi- 
dence is easy to have in a sea that insists on your remaining on 
the top of it. One needs to be careful not to get any water in 
one's eyes or mouth, for it hurts the eyes and strangles in the 
throat. 

An hour's ride brought us back again to the hotel, where we 
found something to quiet the tremendous appetite the bath had 
awakened. In the morning we found it was a race day, and 
that therefore there was not a carriage to be had. We were 
consoled, however, when we found the Mormon Temple and 
Tabernacle, the Beehive and other interesting sights were within 
easy walking distance. Salt Lake City seems a pleasant one to live 
in. Even those GHen tiles who are loudest in their denunciation 
of the Mormons speak in the highest terms of the attractive- 
ness of their city as a place of residence. The streets are broad 
and bright, the climate pleasant. 

The Mormon Tabernacle, a most curious oblong and squat 
building, is especially famous for its acoustic properties, these 
being so perfect a pin's fall at one end can be heard distinctly at 
the other extreme of the great building that holds five thousand 
people. We tested this to our entire satisfaction. The speaker 
in the pulpit can be heard perfectly in any part of the house 
without raising the voice above a natural conversational tone. 
The Tabernacle contains an organ of which they are very proud, 
otherwise it is a very plain and simple building. There is an 
allegorical picture or two painted on the walls representing the 
finding of the revelation by Joseph Smith, and other incidents 
in the history of their religious belief. 



312 AGREEABLE TRAVELING COMPANIONS. 

The new temple, still in process of construction, looms tall 
and massive beside the Tabernacle. It is not to be a hall for 
preaching, being divided into many chambers, where special 
and sacred ceremonies may be solemnized. The Endowment 
House is near at hand, but is closed. Rather the prettiest of the 
three buildings in Temple Square is the Assembly Hall, though it 
is not as large as the others. Its hall for preaching is cozier 
than the Tabernacle, and here, too, are an organ, the emblem- 
atic beehive and allegorical pictures. 

From Temple Square we walk down the street, past the erst- 
while residence of Brigham Young, to the great arch called the 
Tithing Gate, through which all produce passes and a tenth part 
is taken. On the top of the arch is the symbolic beehive. An 
eagle is standing on it and clutching it with its strong talons, 
which is just about what the American Eagle is up to now in 
sad reality. Opposite Bingham Young's we see President 
Taylor's residence, a fine new mansion with two front doors. 
The number of front doors in the houses are replete with sad 
suggestion to the visitor of families that live in anything but 
unison. And so we rove about the city, until it is time to pack 
up our traps and resume our journey. 

Leaving Salt Lake City, we encounter the gentlemanly Pull- 
man conductor of the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad, who 
kindly takes me in charge and sees us to our cars on the Central 
Pacific Railroad, where I am in for another long night and day. 
My two friends leave me in the morning, and then I fall to 
making new acquaintances. A bright, breezy, slangy young 
American starts the ball a rolling by giving me an orange. A 
great burly, gruff farmer seconds his motion by also giving me 
an orange. Another American, a "drummer," with a nose 
suggestive of cocktails, also gives me an orange, and still an- 
other gentleman, rather handsomer and better bred than the 
rest, cultivates me through the medium of a proffered orange. 
The drummer takes me out on the back platform, where I 
enjoy myself in the cool air, until I discover I am keeping 
the gentlemen shut in the smoking room, so delicate are 
they about disturbing me, when I retire. Thereafter they take 
turns in dropping into the seat near me for a few moments 
and chatting and lending me books. We were crossing bar- 
ren alkali plains until near night, and I heard a great deal 



THE NOBLE RED MAN. 313 

about the richness of this, seemingly worthless, land under 
irrigation. 

Toward night we stopped at one little dry-goods box of a 
depot, about which were a few wigwams, the Indian proprietors 
of which came to the train and endeavored to establish them- 
selves on a friendly footing with the passengers. The men, 
robed in old blue army coats and pants, with ancient black plug 
hats on their untidy black heads, do not suggest the dime novel 
brave of our childish fancy. The women look more like, with 
their blankets wrapped closely about them, and their pappooses 
strapped in approved Indian fashion on flat pieces of wood first, 
and then to the mother's back, where they are truly as solemn 
and unblinking as they have the reputation of being. 

Neither men nor women had the stolid faces I had been taught 
to believe. Both were, on the contrary, very smiling and per- 
suasive, not begging openly, but showing their babies and beads 
and volunteering information and evidently hoping to be given 
something in return for these courtesies. One woman did, I 
believe, venture a suggestion about the usefulness of ten cents. 
Their voices struck me as rather musical and pleasant. . 

There were several other ladies in the car who carried their 
lunch baskets, so I was the only one to go out at the dining 
stations, consequently I was filled with dismay when, after an 
early breakfast, I learned that we were not to stop for dinner 
until 3 P. M. (in spite of the oranges). After stopping at one 
place for about five minutes the slangy young man came in and 
shouted to another man, "That was a splendid lunch!" 
"Lunch ! " I said with the deepest reproach, " Oh, why didn't 
you mention it sooner ? " And then I laughed, for the sincere 
distress on the young man's face was too much for me. I want 
to say it again, and I say it boldly, the American man, be he 
educated or otherwise, refined or coarse, dissipated or religious, 
has, as a rule, the most perfectly gentlemanly manner toward 
women. Sometimes it would seem that the rougher and more 
reckless types preserve the deeper sense of respect and consider- 
ation due to ladies. Many times I have been struck hy the 
exceeding delicacy in the courtesy of a dissolute, one might 
think unprincipled, man. Often I have been touched by the 
gentle consideration of men I had rather not come in contact 
with at all, much less socially. 



314 LAKE TAHOE. 

One of the pleasant features about the politeness of American 
men whom, one meets in traveling is its entire disinterestedness. 
They pay many little considerate attentions to a woman who is 
alone, not to open an acquaintance with her, but merely out of 
manly sympathy and kindliness. The entire disinterestedness 
is shown by the forbearance to press an acquaintance on a lady 
which his politeness to her would prevent her declining if she 
choose. It was in this kindly manner that these gentlemen did 
all they could to make me comfortable, and then left me to rest 
in peace. 

At Truckee the hotel is supposed to be very bad, but to me 
badness in hotels, as in people, is purely relative. I've put up 
at worse hotels than that at Truckee and I've stopped at better 
ones. The best thing one can do in traveling is to carry one's 
comfortableness along with them in one's satchel or shawl 
strap, as much as they will hold, the rest in one's heart. 

In the morning at seven I took the coach for Lake Tahoe, the 
first bit of staging for me in two years, and I was very happy 
when I found myself once more on the box seat with the driver. 
The sun was straight in my eyes all the way ; but what of 
that ? The air was fresh and the country about was green and 
beautiful. So rich in color after those arid deserts of cactus and 
alkali ! Colorado is beautiful, but Colorado is not rich with 
luxuriant verdure as is California. Had we not all noticed the 
difference the night before as soon as we left the plains of 
Utah ? 

The drive from Truckee to Tahoe City is but fourteen miles, 
just the thing for Eastern tourists to take before going to the 
Yosemite as a sample of that style of travel. Short enough for 
women and children and invalids to bear comfortably and long 
enough to enjoy. The road runs along the Truckee Eiver and 
is picturesque and pleasant ; the rich green about us contrasting 
strangely with the snow on the mountain tops. The coach 
drops you at a pleasant hotel, directly below which is a wharf 
from which a little steamer will take you across the lake. 

The lake itself is very beautiful, imbedded in the mountains 
like a sapphire, so blue is it, but they are destroying the beauty 
of the hills about by cutting the timber. This is a great mis- 
take, I think. Tahoe should become the property of the State, 
as the Yosemite is, and be preserved as it and the big tree 



WATER AS CLEAR AS CRYSTAL. 315 

groves are from spoliation or defacement, for the benefit of 
California and her visitors. One day Tahoe should be a popu- 
lar Summer resort. It could easily be made but twelve hours' 
journey from San Francisco, and the trip takes one through 
some of the finest scenery of California in crossing the Sierra 
Nevada range of mountains. 

But one does not appreciate the special beauty of the lake un- 
til one goes out upon it. Sailing on its smooth surface one 
would think it is plate glass we are gliding across and not water 
at all. It would seem impossible that water could be so clear. 
But water it is, pure mountain snow water. The clearest crys- 
tal glass is the only simile possible. At a depth of over ten feet 
the bottom is as distinct before your eyes, with every bit of rock 
or moss, and every tiny fish, as if you were looking mto a shal- 
low case with a crystal cover. It is one of the things that must 
be seen to be appreciated. Sailing on the unruffled crystal 
bosom of Tahoe is one of the surprises this world holds for 
wonder seekers. Fishing is not very successful in the lake, al- 
though trout may be caught in adjacent mountain streams. 
The lake is far too clear, the fish waft themselves about and 
look up at you and observe all your preparations for their dis- 
comfiture. They swim around your bait idly and then smile 
audibly as they lazily swim away in search of safer food. 

Near the shore, at a depth of six feet, I saw a small fish play- 
ing with a smaller dead fish on the bottom of the lake, very 
much as a cat plays with a mouse. It caught sight of it, rushed 
at it, bit it and shook it for a little and then swam away, 
investigated a piece of tin, returned with a rush and bit the fish 
again, swam off around a bunch of moss and returned and gave 
it another nip, went and buried its head in the moss and waited 
and returned again, and so it swam around and pretended to 
go or to be indifferent, or deeply absorbed in something else, 
but always returning to worry the little, dead fish. 

As I preferred to cross the Sierras by daylight I took the 
early morning train for San Francisco. 

It was not very long before we struck the snow sheds, of 
which there are forty miles. We saw Donner Lake en passant 
through occasional gaps in the sheds left for the tourists' bene- 
fit. Donner Lake is too beautiful a spot to be allied forever to 
so sad a history as that of the unfortunate Donner party who 



316 THE SIERRA NEVADAS. 

were lost in the snow here, suffering starvation and its con- 
comitant horrors, and many of them death, before relief came. 

From the open spaces one catches many a charming view, 
now across and now down the full length of the lake, as wc 
circle up the mountain side. It lies there deep in the moun- 
tains placid and silent with the green and wooded slopes rising 
up from it, beyond which rise again other mountains, whose 
tops are still clad in snow. As we rise higher we see patches 
of snow now and then near our track. At many of the 
stations the snow sheds still cover us. Forty miles of snow 
sheds is a good deal, indeed one is heartily sick of them before 
one is half through, and to some people the flickering of the 
bright light through the cracks of the sheds is very tiresome to 
the eyes. The sheds are, however, a necessity out here where 
the snow falls so deep and so frequently. 

Having fairly crossed the summit, however, we are rid of 
them at last, and can see all the beauties of the warm, sunny 
side of the Sierras as we descend. Here again the scenery is 
grandly beautiful, but different from the beautiful canons of 
Colorado. Here it is richer and greener and more open, it 
would seem, for we ride at the top of it instead of at the bottom. 
Winding around steep mountain sides, where we can look deep 
down in the green valleys and across at wooded slopes, rising 
again toward the sky, and ever and again in the distance some 
peaks of snow, until at last we round " Cape Horn," the sharp- 
est curve with the deepest and most precipitous sides on the line. 

This Cape Horn is, however, far more easily rounded than 
that other Cape Horn that reaches down into the Antarctic 
Ocean, the dangers of which I encountered in making my first 
voyage to California. They comfort one by saying this spot 
was once very dangerous, but it has been improved until the 
delightful spice that probable and imminent annihilation gives 
has left it. It is as dissatisfying as would be doubling the Ant- 
arctic Cape, with the sea, ordinarily so soul-inspiringly stormy, 
as smooth as a mill pond. I know I should have cherished the 
deepest feelings of animosity toward the Santa Rosa and her 
amiable captain if it had not been for our luck in striking a 
hurricane off Cape Pillar. 

As we descend valleyward it grows warmer momentarily, 
until at Sacramento we find the weather excessively hot. But 



BACK AGAIN TO SAN FRANOISCO. 317 

for the luscious peaches that were handed through the car 
windows to us by venders at the depots we should have been 
more tired, hungry and thirsty than we were. We get a parlor 
car here, and though it is still very hot, one catches the passing 
air through the great open windows as we sit at ease in the 
comfortable revolving chairs, and by and by we catch the cool 
salt breeze from the coast, and then the train is taken bodily on 
a boat, and carried down and across the broad Sacramento 
River, and a little later one finds it cool enough for an extra 
wrap, and then after the rapid, thorough and successive dusting 
of the passengers the porter announces Oakland ferry, as the 
wind comes tearing across the bay and through the car. 

Nowhere in all the world have they such luxurious ferry- 
boats as these. Our Eastern ones are fine and substantial, but 
here they add the luxury of carpets and velvet upholstered 
sofas, and a great plate glass rounded front to the saloon so one 
may look ahead from that comfortable place. 

And then, San Francisco, as ridiculous in grand hotels and 
shabby wooden houses, broad avenues with perfectly conducted 
cable cars and absurd climate, as ever. 

I'm sure the hotel is full of fleas just waiting to devour the 
unwary strangers, and yet — I love San Francisco, absurd 
climate, fleas and all. 

It is almost two years since I sailed away from San Francisco, 
westward, for Japan ; and now, having made the circuit of the 
globe, I reenter the city from the east. 



YOSEMITE— SECOND VISIT. 

I left San Francisco at 3 P. M. , by the Southern Pacific Rail- 
road for my second trip to the Yosemite. Before, when I took 
the valley trip, I was told it would be dusty ; I carried my dus- 
ter and it rained all the way, when it didn't snow. This time I 
resolved to be prepared for any emergency, so I carried my 
duster, my waterproof and my ulster. On this occasion, how- 
ever, all the prophecies of heat and dust were' fulfilled. 

Next morning we had breakfast in an apartment whose walls 
were made of wire netting, giving us the sense of being in an 
exaggerated flytrap, before taking the coach for the new stage 
route to the Yosemite. 

It was positively warm and I was really enjoying myself, 
melting slowly and surely but comfortably, while the rest of 
the passengers really suffered and averred that it was hot. This 
idea I rejected, however, laughing to scorn the Californian 
notions of heat until a thermometer was produced at one of the 
stations attesting to 96 degrees in the shade. That convinced 
me that while 90 degrees in New York is misery, here in this 
dry air I could support 96 degrees and a heavy cloth dress with 
cheerfulness. I was sorry, though, that they convinced me it 
was so hot, for I felt in duty bound to suffer with them for the 
rest of the morning. And I was sufficiently uncomfortable 
already on account of the dust, which did not need to be proven 
to me, without adding the actual degree of incontrovertible 
heat to my agony. What little air there was stirring was fol- 
lowing us in such a manner as to keep us in a cloud of beauti- 
ful dust that sifted through a duster as easily as it would 
through a sieve, covering our hats, filling our hair until the 
most youthful of us appeared to be quite gray. 

The morning was spent climbing over a winding road up 
the foothills to " Grant's." This place is kept by the man who 
has built the new road at his own expense, we are told, from 
pure love of road building and the beautiful country he lives 
in. As we journey it becomes evident that the road was built 
by an artist whose love of the beautiful was backed up by a 
practical knowledge of civil engineering. 

318 



SAN JOAQUIN VALLEY. 319 

Such serpentine winding and turning was never seen before 
in roads. Sometimes we wound around the side of the moun- 
tains in a succession of scallops similar to that erratic railroad 
that climbs the Himalayas, only these were smaller scallops. 
This kept us always on the side of the mountain where we could 
see into and across the valley, and so at last when we had 
reached the top we had a succession of views of the valley, each 
one broader and more comprehensive, until finally we looked, 
not only down in the valley, but out on the surrounding- moun- 
tains that formed a horseshoe from where we rode, and clear 
across the yellow plains of the San Joaquin Valley to where 
the Coast Range rose dim and misty against the sky. Now, 
too, we had left the heat below us and the dust had been laid 
and the air freshened by a passing shower. A particularly 
brilliant sunset left some bright crimson clouds in the sky that 
deepened to magenta and purple as the sun sank lower. 

Having reached the summit we plunged into a forest road 
shaded by great trees, though we still caught views now and 
then of inner valleys, sometimes under cultivation, sometimes 
deep forest, now thick with tangled undergrowth, now swept 
clear by fire that had blackened all the trees about. They say 
the Indians used to set the brush on fire every year in the Fall 
to burn the forest clear of undergrowth. 

We meet some Indians now and then with tawny skins and 
shaggy black hair, clothed in old army suits sometimes, more 
often common laborer's garb, not at all suggestive of the dime 
novel or stage Indian. I look in vain for the stately brave with 
eagle eyes and long, straight hair, adorned with bright, defiant 
feathers. I miss the stalwart chiefs of fiction with massive 
chests of bronze, fringed leggins and beaded moccasins. Some- 
how, things never do turn out as one has fancied. The pictures 
never seem to agree with the originals. 

At about 6 P. M. our coach drives up to Clark's, where im- 
mediately on alighting we are assaulted by the proprietor and 
his zealous servants with feather dusters and whisk brooms, and 
dusted ancM>rushed assiduously for a few moments before we 
are invited into the office to register. Is there anything more 
satisfactory after a long day's travel than a good supper, a re- 
freshing bath and a clean soft bed? All these one finds at 
Clark's. The table is fresh and neat, the dinner well cooked 



3.3Q BECAUSE THEY ARE WOMEN. 

and well served, the baths of delicious soft mountain water of 
melted snow, the beds white, warm and very grateful to the 
tired frame, while the sleep that comes to one under all these 
conditions is as sweet and sound as it is refreshing. 

With the dawn we are up again and off on the morning coach. 
While I, by the unfair use of the privileges of my sex, have 
secured the box seat, where I am guiltily happy in my ill-gotten 
point of vantage, though I disapprove with all my soul of 
women who exact sacrifice of men because they are women. A 
man has no "show" at all under such circumstances. He 
must either resign his just rights or be condemned as a brute 
by the aggressive ladies and looked down on as a boor by the 
gentlemen. I will do myself the justice to say that I had hesi- 
tated, declined and at last reluctantly accepted the gallant sacri- 
fice asked for me only after a reassuring wink and sundry in- 
viting nods and becks of the driver. 

There is not so much advantage in having the front seat, for 
there is no cover to the coach of any kind, so all can see as well, 
only on the box one can see the horses and escape a good deal 
of the dust. We continue to wind around the mountains in 
scallops of the most serpentine of roads, rising higher and get- 
ting a still grander view of the valley and the Coast Range 
than that of the day before, but reach the summit at last and 
commence the descent into the valley. 

Up to this point this road had been far preferable to that 
other road I went over two years ago, though in the Spring of 
the year everything is greener and fresher and therefore more 
beautiful, for the other road has not the magnificent views 
across the country that this one has. But in descending into 
the valley the road is safer and tamer, running behind trees and 
points and only giving one an occasional glimpse of the valley 
— a nice enough road for timid people to come in on ; but I pre- 
fer the delicious dangers of the road on the other side, that 
makes its whole descent on the unprotected verge of the mag- 
nificent precipice. 

I think the grandeur and beauty of the valley ^strike one 
more forcibly when they appear to one suddenly after a long, 
tame approach, and then the continuous and unbroken view 
one gets of the whole as one rides down that zigzag road, the 
horses skirting the very edge of chasms of thousands of feet as 



SUBLIME GRANDEUR OF THE YOSEMITE. 321 

they whirl around sharp corners. Any one who loves the 
breath of danger should by all means come in by that road, for 
it is delightfully thrilling and still safe enough. The drivers 
know their business and so do the horses. 

Having been over both roads, I should advise people to come 
into the valley via Milton, seeing the Calaveras big trees and 
passing through the Tuolumne grove, making the grand de- 
scent ; and leave it by the other road that terminates at Ray- 
mond, getting the magnificent view of the country out to the 
coast as you ride toward it, and taking in the Mariposa grove of 
big trees. This plan would give the traveler the greatest amount 
of enjoyment, robbing the trip of the monotony of repetition. 

I have already written of the Yosemite Valley and the trail 
up to Glacier Point. I can only say that, seeing it for the 
second time, it loses none of the admiration its sublime grandeur 
and beauty commands at the first impression. El Capitan rises 
majestic in its 3, 300 feet of solid granite before us ; beyond the 
Half Dome throws its sharply cut outline up of 5, 000 feet toward 
the sky, while further on " Cloud's Rest," still higher, earns its 
name, for a cloud is actually resting on its graceful peak at this 
moment, while close at hand the Cathedral spires point toward 
the heaven their names suggest ; and but a little way beyond 
the Bridal Veil Fall pours its volume of water, white and 
foamy and misty as gauze, from the very top of the cliffs to the 
basin below. As one watches the great body of water rushing 
over the precipice one can see it break and separate as it falls, 
and each fork, trying to fall faster than the other, shoots down- 
ward independently like reversed sky-rockets. 

Driving on some three or four miles further we come to 
Cook's Hotel, where we have elected to stop our journey, at 2 
P. M. We are tired, of course, but there is a beautiful after- 
noon before us which it seems a pity to waste in inactivity ; so 
after a few hasty touches to hair that is loaded with dust, a 
whisk or so at garments whose original color is concealed by the 
covering of earth, and a dab with a wet corner of a towel at a 
face that shows high water mark in a distinct line around it for 
the rest of the day, we go down and get some lunch, and then 
take a carriage for a circular drive around the valley. 

We drive up the valley first past Barnard's Hotel, toward the 
great Half Dome and Cloud's Rest, across the turbulent Merced 



322 MIRROR LAKE. 

River and down on the other side, past the Yosemite Fall, 
with its magnificent plunge of 2, 548 feet, under the shadow of 
the stately El Capitan, across the Merced once more, down by 
the glistening Bridal Veil, past the curiously packed stores of 
acorns belonging to the Indians, past some camping grounds, 
where Indian pleasure seekers are to be seen enjoying to the ut- 
most all the inconveniences of camp life, back to the hotel for 
the night. 

We rise in the morning with the lark-^or whatever kind of 
early bird they have in that part of the country — wondering 
why we don't always get up early and enjoy that loveliest and 
freshest part of the day. We have selected the drive to Mirror 
Lake, where, by following up the shadow of the cliffs, we man- 
age to see several reflected sunrises, and after a painful ser- 
enade on a cornet and an equally distressing echo of the same 
we give the Indian torturer of the instrument some small rec- 
ompense and hasten out of earshot. We find our horses await- 
ing us where two roads meet, and when the party have been 
comfortably hoisted, for most of them are amateurs at riding, 
on to their respective steeds, we start off at a hard trot, each fol- 
lowing in the wake of the one before. The horses are small 
sure-footed beasts that need no guidance or attention even, 
save an occasional request that he shall postpone his lunch 
of grass until a more convenient hour and proceed on, at the 
same time hinting at a desire that he should leave the extreme 
edge of the precipice and walk just a little nearer to the wall. 
The short hard trot comes to an abrupt close at the foot of the 
mountain, where the cavalcade proceeds to climb slowly and 
surely toward the heights above, the leaders looking down on 
the heads of those behind and " passing the time of day," while 
those in the rear anxiously observe the maneuvres in turning 
the angles in the narrow road of those who have gone before. 

There has been a recent washout on this trail, so it is under- 
going repair, which makes it more difficult to travel over than 
usual, the loose, broken rocks slipping from under the horses' 
feet as they climb. 

We stop at one point, and dismounting follow a little path in 
toward the Vernal Falls which brings us out on to a large flat 
ledge where we can see the fall tumbling down to us, green as 
its name suggests, and where we catch the spray it throws out. 



THE VERNAL FALLS. 323 

The top of this fall is our destination, only 336 feet. To 
reach it we climb for full two hours over the trail of broken 
stone. The day before this trail had been impassable ; to-day 
we encounter the laborers hard at work on it, and once or twice 
are obliged to wait while the men place stones here and there 
before we can pass over it. Having reached the summit we 
descend a little way over what seems to us a still more pre- 
carious trail, for it runs some distance down over a large 
smooth rock that offers no security for horses' feet. However, 
we all get safely down, though each horse's particular efforts 
are anxiously watched by its rider and those immediately to fol- 
low, and then we dismount again and walk across the great 
rock that forms the ledge of the fall to a natural rocky balus- 
trade, through which the water cuts its way as it plunges into 
the valley below. 

We look at the great rushing, roaring tide of green and 
foamy, turbulent water, and then below, where we descry the 
rock we stood upon when we looked up at the fall, and then at 
the bits of winding trail over which we have traveled, and are 
disposed to criticise the disparity in distances. We can go 
down, they say, by the fall by ladder if we don't mind a little 
spray. We don't mind. We have been told that it is the thing 
to do, and we have come armed with waterproofs to that end. 
But we are to climb up a little higher first, take a rest, dine and 
walk to the foot of the Nevada Fall, which, after its great 
plunge of 617 feet from the top of the cliff, winds along over a 
rocky bed until it reaches another ledge and becomes the Vernal 
Falls. 

At " Snow's"- we get a good dinner, during which the guar- 
dian of the valley is introduced to us. Mr. Denison is a young 
and handsome man, deeply imbued with enthusiasm about the 
valley over which he is guardian. He is just building a new trail 
more comprehensive than any before, which will be open in a 
few days. He will, he says, take any of the party over it to- 
day who would like to go, although part of the road would be 
very difficult, but we will be the first party over the new road, 
"pioneers," he informs us. 

Five of us decide to go, and after a prolonged discussion with 
the guide as to our respective rights in the case, which ends in 
his washing his hands of all responsibility in the matter, which 



324 FEELING DE TROP. 

suits us exactly, we depart, .resuming our upward journey over 
broken stone. 

We have a double corner to turn, a sharp, steep zigzag where 
the stone is so loose that it slips from, under the horses' feet. 
One horse, struggling for secure footing, is caught up so sharply 
by his rider, a lady, that he loses his balance and nearly falls 
backward over the ledge. As I am on the ledge just below her, I 
am momentarily expecting to receive her, horse and all, on my 
head, when, as I lay out the programme, we shall all go over 
the chasm at my elbow and be dashed to pieces on the broken 
rocks. This programme is, however, not followed out, for her 
horse, by a brave effort, recovers himself and leaps above to a 
place just a trifle more secure, scattering with his heels a few 
large stones that fall at my horse's feet. I begin to feel de trop. A 
man goes up next with a similar struggle, and then it is my turn. 

There is a large square block of granite on the edge of the 
precipice on which my feet have rested while I waited on the 
corner for the man ahead of me to go up. I might have 
stepped out of my saddle there so easily that I was tempted to 
do so ; but, being a weak creature when in a company, I deferred 
to the judgment of the gentlemen against my own sense of 
caution and kept my seat. 

Something disastrous really ought to have happened then, to 
have proved me sensible instead of merely timorous and fussy, 
for it was the first time in my life that I had exhibited any 
timidity of that kind, but I was aggravatingly fortunate. My 
horse was the surest footed of the lot, and all I had to do was 
to hang fast to the saddle when he assumed the posture only 
given to human beings, until he got to a point where he could 
conscientiously resume his normal attitude. If- the horse had 
only kicked a small stone down on the wise head of the superior 
man who had insisted on my keeping my seat it would have 
soothed my sense of justice somewhat. 

Once past that bad place, our troubles were over, and soon 
we found ourselves at the summit looking back on the diffi- 
culties we had met and conquered. Our road was now clear 
and comparatively level as we skirted the tops of the cliffs. 
We broke into an occasional trot, but the trot of these little 
climbing beasts is something terrible, so we did not indulge 
much. Our destination now was Glacier Point, after that the 



camper's etiquette. 325 

valley. To reach Glacier Point we wound along the top of the 
granite walls that inclose the valley, getting many a new view 
of it as we went. For a long while a lofty granite apex, known 
as the Liberty Cap, from its shape, rose most prominently 
before us, but later we left it behind us. Our road was fairly 
level, dipping now and then into a gulch and up again. In one 
place we found a great square block of stone in the path, on 
one side was wall and on the other a steep chasm. Each horse 
hesitated and considered over this obstacle, and then chose his 
own peculiar method of getting over it and was deaf to the 
persuasion or entreaty of his rider. 

Further on we came to the camp of the men who were at 
work on the road, where each man's individuality was expressed 
by the condition of his bunk and kitchen equipment — one man's 
bed being the ground, with blankets thrown down, looking as 
if he just crept out, while another was slung hammockwise and 
neatly made, while his stores were put carefully away beneath 
it. Dinner was on the fire, while a kettle of cold tea standing 
near was tasted of by the party. These are the people that 
really keep open house. Any passing stranger is welcome to 
help himself to a meal, camper's etiquette only requiring that 
he shall leave things in as good order as he found them. The 
really polite thing to do, if you have time, is to prepare the 
meal for the absent. Payment for this sort of hospitality is an 
insult. 

Continuing on, we look across the tops of the Sierra Moun- 
tains, getting a magnificent view of the distant snow-covered 
peaks, for there is still snow though it is late in July. Far 
beyond we see the "Little Yosemite," while just ahead of us we 
have the back of the "Half Dome," looming up above all other 
peaks, a great solid dome of rock cut sharply off at one side ; 
beyond it is Cloud's Rest, higher, but not so impressive, and 
further back Star King raises its royal head. 

"We have an exquisite scene before us now ; the sun comes 
out and glances brightly off the distant snows, while behind 
the Half Dome a black cloud rises ominously, and an 
occasional flash of lightning cuts its gloom with a streak of fire. 
The black cloud was making for us, but the Half Dome caught 
it on its broad, flat side, and held it back. We could see the 
rain pouring on its bald, defenseless head until the cloud was 



3.26 THE TRAIL FROM GLACIER POINT. 

spent. We saw far more than we could retain a recollection of 
at one visit. It was a long trail, and contained many magnifi- 
cent views in a sublime whole. 

At length we reached Glacier Point, where we sat on the 
veranda of the little hotel perched up there, and looked across 
the valley at the Nevada Falls, at whose feet we had entered 
upon this new trail. Exactly how we had managed to get 
across the valley without descending into it is not altogether 
clear to me yet. But we did it somehow. 

Once more we descended the trail from Glacier Point, so 
winding, so precipitous and so narrow, bound on one side by a 
chasm thousands of feet deep, on the other by a wall of granite. 
Stones thrown from a point half way up the trail, are lost to 
sight and sound long before they reach the valley. The horses 
feel their way carefully, their feet slipping some inches at every 
step, so steep is the path. They exhibit a distinct preference for 
walking on the extreme edge of the precipice, and when they 
turn the sharp angles that hang out over the valley their heads 
positively hang over the precipice, while they bring their hind 
feet down between their fore feet and then turn, using them 
as a pivot. They are sure-footed little beasts, however, and no 
accidents occur. 

Going over it for the first time two years ago, it seemed to me 
to be an extremely narrow and dangerous trail. Going up was 
bad enough, but coming down was terrifying. Going over it 
for the second time, I was surprised to see what a broad, safe 
trail it was, and at the third time, I looked upon it as calmly as 
I would the one that runs so peacefully along the level floor of 
the valley. This confidence was not altogether due to the 
"familiarity that breeds contempt," but partly to the constant 
improvements that are being made in it. These trails are 
practically rebuilt each succeeding Spring. I was a little dis- 
appointed, though people who were new to it seemed to find a 
sufficient amount of terror in it. 

The descent from Glacier Point is long and slow and far 
more tiresome to both man and beast than the ascent. My 
stirrup foot and knee were painfully strained long before we 
reached the bottom, and for once I appreciated a side saddle, 
for the gentlemen were afflicted with two stirrups and, therefore, 
two strained feet and knees apiece instead of one. We got to 



A PICTURE THAT CAN NEVER FADE. 327 

the bottom very much sooner than we should have done with a 
guide. Our little beasts were pretty tired, for they had an 
unusually hard day's climb, and so were we ; for five straight 
hours in the saddle are not absolutely restful to an unaccus- 
tomed rider, particularly when it is only the finale to a long 
day's sightseeing. 

I was not so tired, however, but that I could spend the even- 
ing on the piazza talking indef atigably to a group of questioners 
about my many travels. When I jumped out of bed at 4.30 the 
following morning I had occasion to recollect that I had been 
horseback riding the day before ; nevertheless I prepared my- 
self for the stage, for we were to start on the return journey to 
San Francisco to-day. 

We left the valley with many a backward glance at serene 
Cloud's Rest, at bold, clear cut Half Dome, at the Silvery Bridal 
Veil and roaring Yosemite Falls, at Sentinel Rock, Cathedral 
Spires and majestic El Capitan, at the valley below, fresh and 
green as an emerald, with the Merced sparkling in the morning 
light, carrying away with»us a picture that can never fade or 
dwindle in comparison with other scenes, for the Yosemite is 
one of those rare pictures that exceeds all power of words or 
brush to depict its beauties, that rises in its loveliness and grand- 
eur far beyond human conception. Even the extravagant eulo- 
gium of the advertisement fails to reach the standard of actual 
grandeur and beauty of the Yosemite Valley. 

A long hard climb and we are back on the summit, and then 
down we go to Clark's at a rattling gait, looking out again 
across the green mountains and the yellow, grainripe valley, 
observing the big trees as we go — the crooked Mawzanita and 
richly tinted Madrona that sheds its bark yearly. Here grows 
the cedar from which the California redwood is obtained, while 
the rich green pines and graceful firs shoot up, straight and 
eve.n, to stupendous heights. The silver fir is the most perfect 
tree in the world in absolute, symmetrical beauty. The silver 
green of its f oliage and the evenness of its branches as they grow 
smaller and smaller until the top, forming a perfect cone, gives 
it exceptional grace. And they do grow so tall. When a tree 
takes a notion to grow in California nothing in heaven or on 
earth will stop it. It may start a tiny shoot under a rock as big 
as a church and it will grow right up around it. If it starts 



338 MARIPOSA GROVE. 

from a seed in a crevice in a rock it will eventually split the 
rock apart. California trees are no joke. They are large, and 
that's a fact. Any one of the ordinary full grown trees in this 
forest would create a sensation in a Jersey wood. And we have 
not come to the grove of large trees yet. 

We see doves on the trees and grouse and quail running 
through the brush, and the streams contain trout, of which we 
have savory proof every morning at the hotels. 

Arriving at Clark's we are set upon by the host and his min- 
ions with feather duster and whisk brooms again. And truly 
we need it this time. The ludicrous appearance of a reverend 
gentleman from Boston nearly sends me into spasms, although 
it is Sunday and church is in progress in the adjacent parlors. 
And one young man with an aristocratic name is so completely 
disguised with plebian dust that I know him not, although he 
regards me with reproach. Not the least funny part of the 
tableau is the intense amusement of one young woman over the 
laughable appearance of her friends, while she herself is bliss- 
fully ignorant of the ant hill of dust resting on her nose and 
equally dusty mole hills on her cheeks. Having a protuberant 
face, she caught it in hills and ridges, and when she grins at 
her friends I walk away where I can sit down and laugh com- 
fortably. 

After lunch the stage is at the door again, waiting to take us 
to the Mariposa grove of big trees. Arrived there big trees 
kept rising before us as we rode on. Single big trees, with hol- 
low trunks ; double big trees, growing up together like giant 
twins ; triple big trees, shooting up straight beside each other, 
forming immense triangles. We drove on through the giant 
forest until we reached the largest tree of all — the Grizzly Giant 
— 101 feet in circumference. 

We drove on through the giant grove until we came to a tree 
in which a door had been cut for us to pass through. This was 
"Wanona," measuring twenty -eight feet in diameter. We 
drove into the tree, and stopped when our hind wheels were 
even with the tree. We had a four seated coach with four 
horses, and we were all inside of the tree but the heads of the 
leaders. On either side and above us were the red walls of the 
Cedar King, roughly hewn. We had nothing to say. We 
drove on past more trees. 



106 IN THE SHADE. 329 

Back to the hotel. More dust. More dusters and whisk 
brooms. Supper, a short lounge on the piazza, a bath and to 
bed ; for in the morning we take the coach at 4. Unearthly 
hour as it seems it is a lovely time to be out. It was bright 
moonlight when we started, and we had the pleasure of seeing 
the " orb of night " fade slowly from the sky before the dawn, 
and the sun rise from behind the mountain walls, sending shafts 
of light through the great forests, and then the delicious silence 
and coolness, the twittered awakening of the birds, and that 
glorious view of the distant valley bathed in morning light — 
there is no more lovely time of day than the early morning. 

A lady shared the box seat with me this time, and we two sat 
in utter silence for hours listening to the incessant chatter of 
two men behind us, until at last they started to tell how to man- 
age babies ; then we only smiled at one another with a glance 
of intelligence and listened more intently, hoping to get some 
wise suggestions from the stronger sex. But they only said the 
usual things about not humoring children, and the necessity of 
teaching them that they must "mind ; " so we merely thought 
"much they know about it anyway," and fell into a deeper si- 
lence than before. 

Our Pullman sleeper was awaiting us, and we just had time 
to take lunch in the exaggerated flytrap and get on board, 
where we had the time and convenience for washing. That was 
a hot day — 106 in the shade — and oh, how grateful for the first 
breath of the sea that we caught, an hour's journey yet from 
the coast ; and how delightful it was to be obliged to put on an 
overcoat before leaving the car to cross the bay. Certainly you 
can have any weather you choose in California. For my part, 
I like the bracing air of San Francisco best. 

I have been to the Yosemite twice, and I shall have to go 
once more in order to see the valley at the best season. Before 
I went at all they told me the Spring was the best time to see 
it, before everything was burned up, and to avoid the great dust 
and heat, and see the falls when they were full. So I went in 
June and was nearly frozen. Then they told me it was pleas- 
anter in the valley later when it was warm and the roads were 
in good condition. I have now tried the midsummer plan and 
have been nearly roasted and suffocated with dust. Now aiey 
say -the Fall is the time of year of all others to see the valley. 



330 -ALWAYS BEAUTIFUL. 

October, when the leaves are changing, is a brilliant month, 
without heat or dust or cold or rain. So I shall have to go in 
October. How people do delight to tell one that the one thing 
one has missed is the one thing worth seeing. I presume they 
will say next time that the really best time to see the valley is 
at Christmas. 

In sober truth, I think the Yosemite Valley is always beau- 
tiful, whether white and glittering with snow and ice, rich and 
green with rain, bright and fair under the midsummer sky, or 
flaming with the brilliant tints of Autumn. 



THE COLUMBIA RIVER. 

I went on board the steamer State of California with many- 
misgivings in regard to the pleasure to be derived from the trip 
to Portland, firstly, because every one I had heard express 
themselves on the subject said I should encounter the most dis- 
agreeable kind of sea, and trial de mer would be the inevitable 
result, if not at sea, then on the bar at the mouth of the Colum- 
bia River surely. The sea was always rough, and everybody 
was always sick on that particular route. Secondly, the dele- 
gates returning from the recent convention at San Francisco of 
the Grand Army of the Republic, had also taken passage on the 
State of California, and, patriotic as I am, and owning to the 
feminine weakness for uniforms and decorations, I felt that 
there would be too much of a good thing for comfort in this 
instance. 

And so it proved for others, for the decks and passages were 
strewn with blankets and mattresses of unfortunate people who 
could get no better accommodations, owing to the crowd. My 
usual good luck had, however, placed me in a most comforta- 
ble cabin on deck, where I could look out on the restless sea while 
sitting comfortably on my own sofa, with Miss Sherman as a 
most agreeable roommate, while her illustrious father, who was 
returning from the Gr. A. R. Convention, was on guard next 
door. 

At table I found myself in good company, for the captain 
was on one hand, a judge on the other, while the man who 
"marched to the sea" sat opposite and told many stories in re- 
sponse to our eager questions about his former experiences in 
this part of the world. Under these circumstances I had every 
reason to enjoy myself, and when, # after a few hours out, I 
noted a conspicuous absence of any symptoms that could be 
construed into coming illness, my forebodings took flight. 

We might have had an opportunity to be seasick on the bar if 
the tide had been higher. 

As it was the State of California fairly walked over the bar. 
That was the first time I ever saw a ship climb hills. We could 
feel her go scraping up the sandy undulations of the bottom 

331 



332 PORTLAND— A STERN WHEELER. 

and down again on the other side, and into the water again. 
Some of the hills seemed to be pretty steep and long, and I had 
grave doubt about her ever getting off again, but she always 
reached the top eventually and slid off as if freshly launched 
into the deeper water of the following valley. 

From Astoria, following up the Columbia River, we saw the 
deep wooded hills of Oregon, and at their base many salmon 
canneries. As we approached Portland we hoped to see the 
famous mountains of this coast, but that was not to be. The 
atmosphere was thick and gloomy with the smoke of burning 
forests-. Here and there the adjacent hills were ugly with bare 
and blackened tree stumps, relics of previous fires. 

Reaching Portland at night I took the hotel stage at seven the 
next morning along with a regiment of school girls and boys 
under the charge of one or two older people. The girls filled 
the interior completely, while the boys were piled up on the 
roof. After two false starts, which were brought hastily to a 
stop by girlish shrieks as to forgotten articles, and long waits 
while the said articles were being diligently hunted for, we got 
off and were half way to the depot when another shriek, shriller 
than either before, told of another and more serious loss. This 
time it was a watch left under a pillow by its youthful owner. 
And the whole stage load of people were turned about and 
driven hastily back, while the elderly lady told her charge the 
only safe recipe for keeping a watch while traveling. ' ' Never 
put your watch under your pillow, my dear," she said, "unless 
you put it in your stocking ; then when you come to dress you 
Will be sure to take it out, because you will want the stocking." 
After a prolonged search, the watch was found and we set off 
once more for the boat. 

A very pretty, neat little boat it was, but built on a plan 
entirely new to me — flat bottomed and having one paddle wheel 
at the stern. Boats built in this way run very fast and are very 
easily handled. They can do what a side wheeler can't in the 
way of landings. They are the most independent little craft I 
ever saw, running right up on shore at any sand bank they 
choose to stop at to get a passenger. We did not always have 
to run ashore in this way, however ; there were little wharves 
sometimes, but I rather fancy that the vessel liked to climb the 
beach better, 



A BEAUTIFUL BROAD RIVER. 333 

Stopping at one of the numerous canneries, the captain of the 
steamer kindly took me through it. We saw here the different 
tables where the fish were cleaned and cut and put in cans, the 
operation of making the cans, filling and sealing them. All 
was very neat and nice and the result highly satisfactory to the 
world in general. 

Returning on board, the captain took me into the engine room 
of the boat. I wouldn't mind being an engineer on that style 
of boat at all, for instead of being a black hot hole in the 
" cellar " of the ship, the engine room is almost as high above 
the water as the deck of an ordinary ferry boat, and takes the 
full width of the vessel, only leaving a narrow passageway be- 
tween it and the bulwarks, occupying more than half the vessel 
reaching from the stern forward. The machinery is spread 
around on the deck, with plenty of space to walk around among . 
it, and all is polished to a degree of brightness only known to 
engineers. Forward are the boilers and the great furnace where 
the firemen are piling in logs that bear a family resemblance to 
railway ties. 

Speaking of railway ties, reminds me of their manufacture at 
the tops of these steep cliffs, from whence they are sent down to 
the river by means of a dry flume, down which they go with 
lightning-like rapidity, shooting into the river with a force that 
sends up a splash like a fountain. Indeed, we watched one of 
these flumes from the boat with an interest that culminated in 
excitement when each tie made the final plunge. We could see 
them coming from very near the top and switch around a curve 
at the lower end before precipitating themselves into the water. 

The scenery of the Columbia River is really very fine. It is 
a beautiful broad river, with green slopes that run high aloft 
varied by basaltic cliffs and palisades. "Cape Horn," project- 
ing into the water like a promontory, is an imposing and pic- 
turesque cliff. These basaltic cliffs resemble in character very 
much the Giant's Causeway of the northern coast of Ireland, 
having the same formation of octagonal pillars and honey- 
combed looking rock that evidently has once been molten. 

The Indians say that Mount Hood and Mount Adams, now 
so many miles away, at one time stood close to the river and 
were connected by a natural bridge. The mountains grew 
angry with one another, they say, and threw out fire, ashes and 



334 GOOD TEMPER REWARDED. 

stones, destroying the bridge and choking the river, hitherto 
navigable. The Great Spirit, getting angry in His turn, hurled 
the mountains asunder and at their present distance from the 
river. 

At the cascades we left our little steamer, and taking a little 
train, were transported, bag and baggage, above the cascades, 
where another little steamer of the same ilk waited us. En 
passant we saw little Indian encampments and Indians out on 
the water fishing, not as we do with lines, but with spears. 
Further up we caught a glimpse of the graceful cone of Mount 
Hood, rising pale and symmetrical from between two hills that 
rose from the river in the distance. Now and then we saw a 
forest fire raging, leaving bare and blackened hillsides wherever 
it passed. The steamer reaches the Dalles in time for its pas- 
sengers to sup comfortably at the hotel before the train from 
Portland comes along to pick them up and carry them on 
toward the East. After a good deal of confusion the ' ' Grand 
Army " were settled comfortably in their respective berths, too 
comfortably to be willing to turn out and see the beautiful 
waterfall we passed but a short time after leaving Dalles. 

The following day we discovered that traveling in crowds, 
though it was certainly jolly and social, had its inconveniences, 
and there were many thoughtless complaints and considerable 
bad temper shown by some, while people of happier disposition 
took it as a joke and managed to extract a good deal of fun 
from the situation. For my pai't, when I start out to travel 
during a specially crowded season I expect a great deal of dis- 
comfort will result, and am prepared to take the consequences 
with equanimity. I observed now that good temper and con- 
sideration toward overworked servants was really quite fre- 
quently rewarded by grateful thoughtf ulness and attention from 
them, such as they were able to give. 

During the day we passed Lake Pond Orielle, a beautiful large 
body of water lying among the forests of Washington Territory. 
Later we were given half an hour to ride or walk over to look 
at an adjacent fall while the train waited. For other amuse- 
ment we alternately slept and cultivated each other. Every 
change of cars brings one in contact with new people, and after 
a great deal of travel one learns to fall easily into acquaintance 
and comes - to enjoy the kaleidoscopic changes of character 



ILLUMINED BY FOREST FIRES. 335 

that pass before one's eyes as they voyage on. Each new 
acquaintance was to me a study of absorbing interest. One 
feels, too, that he himself is a novelty to the people he meets 
and not the old story he is to his friends, and this feeling 
refreshes him. From time to time one runs across some one of 
the eminent people of this world, which is always pleasant. 

Another night, illumined by forest fires, and another long 
warm day broken by long stops to investigate and try to cool a 
box that obstinately remained hot, and other long waits at 
depots where ice boxes were refilled and where the warm and 
thirsty passenger risked the integrity of his indigestion in the 
inordinate consumption of small chunks and slivers of ice, so 
crystal pure that it excited his admiration at the same time that 
it quenched his thirst. These stops gave us opportunity to 
stretch our limbs by a short promenade, after which we 
returned to the cars somewhat refreshed and rested. 

At the end of the third day from Portland and the sixth from 
San Francisco we reached Livingstone, where those of us who 
meant to go into the Yellowstone stopped off, bidding good-by 
to our whilom fellow passengers, who continued on. Here, 
after a short scramble and rush for tickets, we took another 
train. Three hours brought us to Cinnaba, where coaches and 
saddle horses for 150 people awaited us. Another wild rush 
and scramble followed, during which I climbed up on the front 
seat of the nearest coach, deserting a learned judge, who had 
been alternately helping and entertaining me for the last few 
days. 

Our late arrival was not the misfortune that it would seem, 
for the moon was full and it was far more pleasant to be driv- 
ing in the cool moonlight than under the hot sun, as we did on 
the return journey, and Luna manages to invest the scenery 
with a beauty of her own manufacture. So we did not com- 
plain, though between 1 and 2 A. M. were not the hours we 
had counted on arriving at the mammoth Hot Springs Hotel. 



YELLOWSTONE PARE. 

You might imagine we were tired after three days of active 
travel and two consecutive nights on the sleeper. It was very 
near to 3 A." M. before many of us had succeeded in registering 
and securing rooms. We were expected to take the stage the 
following, or rather the same, morning at seven for an all day's 
drive to the Grand Canon. For myself, I climbed up on to the 
box seat feeling decidedly heavy as to eyelids and sore as to 
brain and achy as to limbs and frame. 

After an hour or two of dullness I had managed to become 
acquainted with my two companions on the box, a very bright, 
good looking, good natured and intelligent young driver and a 
very grave and serious, although very . amiable and pleasant, 
senator. And once I got to talking on my favorite subject, 
my many solitary travels, I was all right. My headache disap- 
peared, my muscles lost the sense of fatigue, and it became pat- 
ent to the casual observer that I was up for all day. 

The hotel at the Mammoth Hot Springs was a very fine and 
large one, still I particularly admired the management when, 
at each request for rooms from a gentleman, the manager 
asked, "Are there any ladies in your party?" and, at the re- 
sponse in the negative, "Register and wait until the ladies have 
been settled." 

A coach load from there on became a party and I was no 
longer recognized as being alone, and I was put in with from 
one to the whole number of our ladies at the different hotels, 
and was not permitted to handle my own baggage nor register 
my own name thenceforth, two privileges dear to my contrary 
heart. 

These ladies, three in number, had cultivated me on the 
train, under the delusion shared by many others that I was the 
daughter of General Sherman, a delusion which arose from my 
occupying the stateroom with Miss Sherman and going to the 
dining saloon under her father's escort. At first it gave me a 
shock when a lady approached me and said, " I had the pleas- 
ure of . shaking hands with your illustrious father the other 
day," for my father, who was illustrious, too, in his own way, had 

336 



THE NORMS GEYSER BASIN. 337 

been dead but a year. But I soon got used to it and disclaimed the 
relationship, of which I should have been proud, and the people 
were pleased to cultivate me for myself, having broken the ice. 

After a short drive from the Mammoth Hot Springs we came 
to a narrow winding canon known as the Golden Gate, through 
which the Gibbon River passes with a very beautiful fall. The 
road winds upon a ledge along the right wall ; after that the 
road is comparatively level until after we have passed the Nor- 
ris Geyser basin, where we dine at noon. After some feeble at- 
tempts at removing the dust we sit down to a nice dinner served 
by the neatest, deftest and most obliging of waitresses. Dinner 
is one of the most important questions to the stage traveler, for 
nothing stirs up the languid appetite like a long and early drive 
in the crisp, mountain air, so we dine before we look at the won- 
derful geysers that are before the hotel. 

The Norris Geyser Basin is said to be the oldest and the high- 
est in the park. The "Basin " is a broad expanse of dead white 
lime crust, dotted with geysers and springs, whose special basins 
vary in color from black to snowy whiteness and sulphurous 
yellow. From here rises a dense steam and as dense an odor of 
sulphur. 

We pay our respects first to the geyser known as the ' ' Min- 
ute Man," who fires off a volley of boiling water regularly 
once in every sixty seconds "to a height of twenty five or 
thirty feet," the guide book says,.so of course no one need fail 
to see it in action. The Monarch and the Fearless declined to 
play for us, so we passed westward to the Constant, the Twins 
and the Triplets, geysers of the perpetual order. 

Higher up the hill we come upon a mud geyser that is just 
getting ready for action. We sit on a bench and watch it while 
it bubbles and blubs and sputters like a great bowl of grayish 
black mush, rising gradually in its basin, boiling more fiercely 
momentarily until it shoots up a heavy fountain of mud, send- 
ing up a drab spray so violently that one instinctively starts 
and shrinks back at each fresh spurt. It recedes gradually, 
sinking with a few defiant spurts, as if half inclined to express 
itself further on the subject. We gather up a few small pointed 
cones of drab elongated drops of mud that have cooled and 
hardened as they touched the brink of the geyser, forming an 
ornamental fringe about its edge. 



338 WONDROUS STRANGENESS. 

This is a very queer world, indeed, and its queerness is par- 
ticularly forced on one's attention in the Yellowstone Park, 
where, high as it is above the sea level, the nearness to the sur- 
face of its inner fires is evidenced all about us. 

Further along the winding road and on the left we come to 
the beautiful Emerald Pool, so called from the rich blue-green 
tint of the water. When our eyes are sufficiently dazzled by 
the glare, our minds by the wondrous strangeness, and our 
hearts are impressed with the beauty of the scene our stage 
coach drives up and we climb to our respective seats and travel 
merrily on in search of more wonders. 

All the afternoon we drove over good roads and bad roads and 
indifferent roads, up steep hills, and down deep dales and 
through partially burnt forests, whose scarred trees still stretched 
out foliage enough to break the rays of the sun and scratch 
the unwary passenger's face. Occasionally we climbed or de- 
scended hills that called for a dismount from most of the party, 
which gave our colonels, captains and majors an opportunity 
to exercise and gather horse and mule shoes as graceful souve- 
nirs for the ladies. Meantime acquaintanceship grew and 
flourished ; there is no place like a steamship on a long 
voyage for the development of social qualties in people, and 
no place like the box of a stage coach for the quick growth 
of friendship. 

After sitting shoulder to sho,ulder on that high and isolated 
seat for from eight to twelve hours, one is apt to have developed 
either an interest in one's neighbor or an active hatred. It is 
not easy to avoid some interchange of thought. For my part, 
I usually start out and talk my neighbor deaf and dumb and 
blind in the first half day, first giving the driver permission to 
"fire" me if I become tiresome. I travel on the supposition 
that somebody is likely to be bored, and that it's more comfort- 
able to be the borer within limits. 

We reach the hotel, at the Yellowstone Falls, at about five in 
the afternoon, very comfortably tired after our very short 
night's rest and long day's journey. Here we find those of us 
who are alone must choose roommates to permit the accommo- 
dations to match the demands ; under these circumstances I 
am thankful at getting a very nice and pleasant young lady to 
lodge with me. 



CANON AND FALLS OF THE YELLOWSTONE. 339 

One of the secrets of contentment in traveling is a realization 
of one's comparative good fortune, and how much worse things 
might be. The hotel was a simple wooden box, with wooden 
partitions, but the wood was new and so fresh and sweet that 
no one could complain. A simple supper served with amia- 
bility and goodwill, and eaten with cheerfulness and appetite, 
re-enforced our energies, and sent us off up the Canon to see 
the Falls whose thunder rang in our ears, though they were 
not in sight. 

The upper fall was close at hand. To reach it we plunged 
into a bit of wood, taking a winding path that led us down a 
little and out to the verge of the Canon down which was plung- 
ing a magnificent sheet of deep green water turning to foam as 
it fell. From this upper fall the water rushes impetuously on 
through the narrow winding canon preliminary to taking a 
second and more terrific plunge. 

Having that greater fall in view we did not tarry long at this 
one, beautiful as it was, but retraced our steps to the hotel from 
whence we took a new departure, striking out with staff in 
hand on a longer and more laborious climb. Just a footpath 
worn in the green moss of the woods winding in and out among 
the trees and up and down hillocks at first, and later, as we ap- 
proached the verge of the Canon, narrow sandy slopes hedged 
sometimes with a prostrate dead branch, up which we scrambled 
and down which we slid with many a tremor and frequent losses 
of equilibrium. 

At last we descried the Falls, and with a last slip and slide and 
clutch at empty air, we reached a level that ran out into a little 
promontory even with the Fall, part, indeed, of that mass of 
water that was hurling itself in mad haste over a solid wall of 
rock to the bottom of this rainbow hued canon. Here we 
rested, after disposing ourselves at chosen points of vantage, 
and took in the full beauty of the scene. 

The Fall was beautiful indeed, avast body of rich green water 
plunging down and turning to whirling foam as it fell into a 
valley as vari-colored as a painter's pallet. The last rays of the 
sun shining through the trees, caught the mist that rose from 
the fall, and transformed it into a bank of rainbow at one point, 
while at another a veritable bow of brilliant hues spanned 
the river diagonally, but it was hardly more bright than the 



340 GORGEOUS WITH EVERY COLOR. 

cliffs about us, that were literally ablaze with rich and gaudy 
color. 

The G-rand Caiion of the Yellowstone Eiver is one of the 
great scenes of the world — one of the sights worth traveling half 
around the world to see. It possesses a kind of beauty and 
grandeur to be found nowhere else. It is not like that gem of 
America the Yosemite Valley, green and placid in gray walls 
of towering granite ; nor is it like beautiful Switzerland, with 
its richly verdured valleys and bare gray peaks ; still less is it 
like the Norwegian fiords, richer, greener, more stupendous in 
massive towering granite ; nor is it like the vast, pale tinted 
valleys and sky reaching snow crowned mountains of the 
Himalayas. 

It is like itself alone — a great cleft in the earth, fissured and 
ragged, bathed in the rich dyes of Mother Earth's mineral 
wealth. A narrow winding chasm lies before us, whose steep 
cliffs lap each other at the base where a glistening turbulent 
thread of a river winds. The cliffs are gorgeous with every 
color known, now strongly contrasted, now delicately blended. 
Colors that are ever being renewed by the mist that rises from 
the falls, by the vapors that emanate from the earth. Here are 
greens shading from delicate pale moss to the deep tones of the 
pines that project down to the verge of the river, in points and 
ridges of fringe ; yellows, pale and deep, shading into pale green ; 
and red from terra cotta to magenta and a bluish purple. At 
one point the mist that curls up the palisades has favored the 
growth of delicate green moss and lichen. Surmounting these 
rainbow cliffs is a forest of pines. 

Along the smooth steep slopes of the cliffs castle like cragc 
and pinnacles jut out hanging over the abyss below, and here 
and there the ridge of a jutting cliff has a bristling spine of 
pines extending from the top to the river edge, while right up 
before us rises a huge tower of rock, an elongated cone of dark 
purplish red, the color and shape of a bunch of sumach. 

We took up our line of march again presently and wandered 
on a little further to a point called "Lookout," a crag that 
reaches out over the precipice, from whence one can look back 
on the falls. We waited until the moon came out and added 
her silvery rays to the general effect. But such beautiful scenes 
cannot be described adequately in words. When thoroughly 



INSPIRATION POINT— AN EAGLE'S NEST. 341 

steeped in the loveliness and grandeur of the whole we scram- 
ble over that sharply undulating path again to the hotel ;" there 
we left orders for the saddle horses for the party to be ready at 
5 A. M. and went to bed and to sleep forthwith. 

We were awakened in the cold, frosty darkness of early 
morning, and hastily took- coffee and rolls in the pauses of our 
hasty toilet, and then repaired to the big stove that stood in the 
center of the office to wait for our horses. We waited an hour, 
but no horses came ; finally it transpired that the horses were 
always allowed to run loose during the night, and had wandered 
away and could not be found. We concluded to walk, and 
started out over the same hilly trail of the night before past 
Point Lookout, and on some three miles or more along the verge 
of the canons to Inspiration Point, a crag that stands far out 
over the canon from where one gets a still more extended view. 

Looking eastward, the turbulent Yellowstone River winds 
along the base of the yellow cliff s, now in full view, now disap- 
pearing behind the jutting feet of the palisades, until finally lost 
altogether in the distance where the cliffs overlap each other. 
On this side the palisades have a smooth slope up from the river 
and are wooded with green pines. Looking westward the river 
comes tumbling toward us over several cascades after its great 
fall further beyond, and after disappearance for some distance 
behind the overlapping triangular cliffs, while far above and be- 
yond the upper fall stretches a green forest of pine. 

Midway between our dizzy perch and the river rises an inac- 
cessible tower of granite, whereon an eagle has built her nest, 
and on the edges of the nest we see three young eagles scratch- 
ing about, occasionally trying their wings or screaming to the 
old bird who has just left the nest and is soaring smoothly 
about, apparently on the lookout either for fish in the river or 
other edibles on its banks. Once she comes with outstretched 
wings straight toward us, but swerves off and describes a circle 
after which she spreads her pinions for a higher flight and soon 
disappears in the distance. The young are pretty iarge birds 
and are almost ready to fly from the nest, indeed they do take 
short flights from time to time, and from where we are they 
seem to be as large as turkey hens. 

Having feasted our eyes on form and color, and seen the sun- 
light creep up over the brilliant turrets and spires of vari-colored 



342 COLD AND BOILING STREAMS. 

granite and shed her brightest morning rays on the glancing 
falls and river, forming banks and clouds of rainbow in the 
rising vapors, we climb back from our branching eminence and 
go hotel ward along the undulating trail, stopping now and 
then to clamber out on some particularly dizzy and dangerous 
point that overhangs the river for a fresh view. 

After a meal rendered sweet by amiable service and healthy 
appetites we betake ourselves to the piazza to find that our coach 
horses are also lost. We settle ourselves to wait indefinitely. 
They tell us that one boy has been missing three days who went 
out to search for lost horses ! 

Finally our driver, who is by the way young and handsome, 
and fair and amiable, and well informed, and has read Bret 
Harte, and Dickens, and Mark Twain, and is called Charley, 
heaves in sight with the horses and we climb gladly back into 
the coach and proceed merrily, as is our wont, on to the next 
point. Again we lunch at the Norris Geyser basin and review 
the geysers there. 

Proceeding on our journey we climb some steep hills. On 
the side of one of them we pass a large basin of boiling water, 
known as the Queen's Laundry, where most of the party wash 
a handkerchief, which afterward flutters from the back of a 
seat as a curtain, where it drys while gathering a thick coat of 
dust. 

We have noted more than once since our entrance in this en- 
chanted park places where streams of cold water and basins 
or streams of hot water lie so close to one another that a sports- 
man can, in very truth, catch the trout that inhabits the one, 
and, without rising, sling his line over and cook it in the boil- 
ing water of the other. This sounds almost as Utopian as the 
story of chickens already cooked stalking around with knife 
and fork sticking in them ready for eating, but it is nevertheless 
true. However, the visitor to the National Park soon realizes 
that fact is indeed " stranger than fiction." 

We stopped that night near the Lower Geyser basin at a place 
called Fire Hole. We should at another time have gone on to 
the Upper Geyser, but at this time the hotel there is already 
crowded, so we have been notified, therefore we stop at Fire 
Hole, at the worst hotel in the Park. But here, as well as at 
the Norris Geyser, large establishments are in process of con- 



A MUSLIN HOTEL. 343 

struction, and in the coming seasons the traveler will be more 
comfortably housed. At present the most fortunate people are 
two in a room, and I am among the fortunate. The building 
is a mere temporary one of lath and muslin, that shakes at a 
movement, and through which whispers can be heard from end 
to end, as we discover on retiring. Five or six men are talking 
with rash frankness in the room next us, and across the hall 
two women recount their conquests, while from further up the 
corridor are wafted the angry words of a quarrelsome pair. La- 
ter we hear suppressed whispering in a distant chamber, and 
when that subsides the breathing of the sleepers in the adjoin- 
ing rooms, punctuated with occasional snores, is distinctly audi- 
ble. Before the lights are out one room is illuminated with the 
rays from . the next that penetrate the muslin covered cracks. 
After they are extinguished the sounds make it seem like one 
large, much-peopled room. 

The sound of voices at hasty toilet making arouses me in the 
morning, and I proceed to dress, and am beguiled the while by 
an account of myself that is given in a resonant voice in the 
overpopulated apartment next ours. "Ah," I thought, "now 
I shall have an opportunity of seeing myself "as ithers see me," 
but I was disappointed — no opinion either good or bad was ex- 
pressed, nothing but statements of facts regarding my travels, 
with which I was already familiar ; so I clattered a chair, by 
way of warning to the talkers that an audience, was at hand. 

Once more en route, but a short trip this time. We had gone 
a very short distance before we reached the broad expanse of 
white lime, dotted with the sapphire blue water orifices of springs 
and geysers, known as the Lower Geyser Basin. "We climb 
down from our seats, and walk out on the white crust to the 
Fountain Geyser that is just preparing for action. The exqui- 
site greenish blue color of the water that deepens to sapphire ex- 
cites our admiration first, and then the corrugated and fanci- 
fully indented inner walls of purest white that extend down- 
ward in rolls and twisted columns. 

The water is just below the edge of the basin, which appears 
to extend over the mouth of the cavern a little, but it rises as it 
boils more fiercely until it is even with the surface, and finally 
it sends up a volume of water to a great height, playing with 
much force and grace for some minutes. When it subsides, 



344 HELL'S HALF ACRE — UPPER GEYSER BASIN. 

sinking back into the cavern several inches, it is again a basin 
of rippling blue water, with a little cloud of vapor curling off 
of it. 

There are other geysers and springs in the basin, the Thud 
group with dark green water, the muffled thud that shakes the 
ground with each escape of accumulated steam, giving them 
their name ; the Jet Geyser ; and eastward across the road, sep- 
arated by a fringe of trees, the Mud Caldron ; and patches of 
clay of different colors, from pink to gray, known as the Paint 
Pots. 

The next place where we descend from the coach is at Hell's 
Half Acre, which we cross on foot, walking on a crust that 
sounds too hollow to inspire confidence, and is covered with hot 
water at various depths. We are inclined to walk on the ridges 
that mark it, and are glad when we have reached the opposite 
bank and climbed up on the-solid earth again. 

We reach the hotel at Upper Geyser Basin a little before 
luncheon, having sufficient time to rest and explore the basin 
before that always welcome meal. We can see the geysers from. 
the veranda very well, but of course one wants to examine them 
more closely, so we walk down across the little depression that 
lies between us and the Basin proper, which in this case, like 
the Norris, rises up mound-like from the center of a large broad 
valley. 

When we arrived the Giantess was playing, and now the In- 
dicator, as a miniature geyser that acts as an escape valve for 
the Bee Hive is called, is letting off steam at a great rate, indi- 
cating thereby that the Bee Hive, which is an irregular operator, 
means to play soon. The Bee Hive has a very graceful cone, 
suggesting somewhat its name. The Giantess has no raised 
crater, its projecting crust overlies its basin, which is filled with 
the sapphire blue water peculiar to these geysers like unto 
which I have seen nowhere else in this wide world. The Giant, 
unlike the Giantess, has a very high large cone, broken down 
at one side, like a broken column. It plays every four days, 
and, it would seem, plays to some purpose, for it doubles the 
usual quantity of water in the river, so the guide book says. 
The Castle has the largest cone in the basin, and bears some 
resemblance to a rambling ruin of a castle, while the gem of 
the geysers, the Grotto of Pearls, gains its name from the group 



OLD FAITHFUL. 345 

of grotto like arched cones and the opal tinted, pearl like inte- 
rior walls. These are only a few of the geysers that fill the 
basin, clouding the air with steam and belching forth hot water. 

Old Faithful we visit last. It is the famous geyser of the 
park because of the regularity of its irruptions. No one need 
miss seeing this geyser inaction, for it plays once in every hour. 
The crater of Old Faithful rises from the center of a hillock of 
terraces formed by deposits. Each terrace forms a shallow 
basin filled with clear warm water. This magnificent natural 
fountain, this wonderful example of the power of the interior 
forces of the earth, is put to the very practical everyday use 
of a washing machine. 

It is the delight of the tourist to drop into the crater handker- 
chiefs and socks and other small articles, washable and other- 
wise, even that delight of the goat's palate, the tomato can, 
just before an irruption. This causes the play of the great 
fountain to present a peculiar appearance, as the bits of muslin 
and cans are shot up in the air, an appearance not at all poetical. 
However, the geyser revenges herself for this degradation in 
true laundry style, by failing to return articles confided to her 
care with promptitude or regularity. Of the three handker- 
chiefs dropped in by one unsentimental man of our party but 
one returned, while on the other hand a sock, one of a pair put 
in a few days before, came sailing out, only to find its mate and 
owner had gone and left it to its fate. 

A traveler should always take a pair of blue or smoked glasses 
to the park, for the light is very trying to the eyes in these geyser 
basins. The vast expanses of dead white crust reflect a dazzling 
glare. 

From our entrance into the park some of us had pined to ride 
horseback. Personally I had begun to yearn for this delightful 
exercise before I left San Francisco. It was one of the joys I 
had promised myself on this trip, and on the first day's coach- 
ing I had discovered some other ambitious hearts that beat with 
mine on this subject. One gentleman of the party really did 
not care to ride, he had been allotted a horse at first, but made 
an exchange at the first halt, and congratulated himself there- 
after, as he thought of his bruises ; but as the other party to 
the exchange also congratulated himself and expressed his grat- 
itude and pleasure whenever we met at stations, the first man's 



346 A HORSEBACK RIDE. 

experience carried no weiglit. Therefore, we continued to 
yearn for riding horses. • 

When we alighted from the coach we knew we were to re- 
main at the geysers five or six hours, so we calculated the time 
to rest, the time to dine and the time to explore the geysers, and 
proceeded to the office and ordered eleven horses, four with 
side saddles and all to he in readiness at three. Before the hour 
arrived we were informed that only three horses could be had 
and but two saddles, one being a lady's saddle. Then we held 
a consultation. It was decided that three ladies should ride 
the three horses, and that the two biggest men of the party 
should walk with us as escorts. One of the ladies was a good 
rider, so she took a horse — what one might call a plain, ordi- 
nary horse — unadorned by saddle of any kind. The other lady 
had never ridden before, so the gentlest animal was chosen for 
her and combined with the one side saddle. I, myself, figuring 
as the third lady, took the third and last horse, and, having a 
littte experience in riding, essayed the animal on the masculine 
saddle. 

We mounted while the assembled tourists looked on and com- 
mented and advised. My horse, acting in a somewhat restive 
manner while I sat uneasily perched sideways on a very slippery 
and unsupporting saddle, managed ultimately to center the inter- 
est on himself. He took offense, it seemed, at the restraining hand 
of the biggest of the big men on his bridle, and champed and 
pawed and backed and curveted in the most restless manner. 
Comments were made on the temper of the animal, and gloomy 
f orebodings were expressed about the prospects of certain disaster 
to the lady. Advice was hazarded at random about the disposal 
of the unused stirrup on the off side of the beast. It was 
thought that if left swinging it would strike the already excited 
beast and irritate him to further speed, probably rOuse his ire 
and result in a wild stampede. However, others thought the 
lady looked equal to an emergency, and my escort dropped the 
bridle and let my horse start. He made a wild break at first, 
but being caught again was persuaded to walk demurely behind 
the two spiritless horses of the other ladies for a little way, the 
colonel keeping at his head. 

I, however, having grown a little acquainted with my horse, 
and discovering that he was more manageable than he at first 



THE DEVIL'S PUNCH BOWL. 347 

appeared, and being anxious for a canter, got tlie lead, and 
cautioning the colonel to be ready to bead him off if he tried to 
bolt, gave my horse the rein and a touch of the twig that did 
duty as a riding whip. At first he shot me up sky high at every 
step of the abominable trot he broke into, but getting him into 
an easy lope, we went along gayly for a little while, until he 
dropped back into that atrocious trot of his, when I tried to 
stop him altogether. Seeing this the colonel, who was keeping 
up by cutting through the woods, went tearing through the 
brush of a long wooded point that I was just rounding, and 
rushing out as we came jouncing along, caught us " on the fly." 
Meanwhile one of the other ladies' horses ambled steadily along 
at a grave walk, while the other beast was being continuously 
belabored with epithets and other things, to keep him from 
laying down by the roadside. 

After this my steed could not be restrained to the sober gait 
of his companions, so he trotted excruciatingly for short dis- 
tances, and then we quarrel furiously, he desiring to continue 
his trot, I insisting that he shall either wait for my friends, or 
go back to meet them. As we neither are lacking in determina- 
tion, the struggle lasts until the others have come up. In this 
way we pass the Devil's Punch Bowl, and eventually reach the 
edge of the lake, where we see some campers just settling 
themselves. 

On the return journey we did not go so fast, but still we out- 
stripped my companions. Just as we were passing the Punch 
Bowl again we spied those of our party who were on foot, 
including the fourth lady, coming along leisurely. The 
colonel, anxious that I should appear to advantage, said: 
" Now start on, go up to them with a gallop, and show them 
how well you can ride," and urged my steed into a lumbering 
trot ; but, alas, for my dignity and pride, the creature no longer 
desired to hasten, so he settled back at once into a plodding 
walk, and just as we came up to them stood still, while I slid, 
saddle, blanket and all to the ground. The girth had broken. 

I expressed myself as satisfied with my ride and begged the 
colonel to ride the horse back, betake myself to a prostrate log, 
just off the road under a tree, from whence I look meditatively 
out on the Fire Hole River, sweeping the surrounding scenery 
with an occasional glance. A pond lies back of me and to my 



348 WONDERS OF THIS WORLD. 

right, at the left the Punch Bowl slopes up to a yawning mouth, 
while before me and beyond are the river and the lime white 
geyser crust punctuated with active geysers that look like mag- 
nified exclamation points of steam. Then the coach rattled up 
from the opposite direction, gathered me up with the rest and 
sped on back to the flimsy hotel. 

We were on the back track now. Once more we climbed 
hills and descended valleys, gathering discarded mule shoes as 
we went; once more we lunched at Norris'; once more we 
wound around the narrow ledge through the Golden Gate; 
once more we saw the silvery fanlike fall of the Gibbon River ; 
climbed the beautiful terraces of the Mammoth Hot Springs, 
descending, more astonished than ever at the wonders of this 
world. 

The Mammoth Hot Springs are the only springs in the park 
that can be called beautiful as to scenic effect. These snow- 
white terraces descending from the hilltop in steps and scallops, 
look as if they had been carved from marble to represent water 
frozen as it fell. Climbing up among them, one finds them 
filled at the top with the beautiful blue water peculiar to the hot 
geysers. This hot water overflows, and running over the hill- 
side, forms by deposit these graceful terraces with frieze and 
fretwork and dainty incrustation and arabesque. 

Sometimes, in climbing about them, one comes on yawning 
pits, from whose terrible throats rises steam and the odor of sul- 
phur. Taking it altogether, the prettiest thing of all to me was 
the peculiar exquisite blue of the water in the geyser basins. I 
want to go back again to look at that perfect color. 

We have seen the park and to-morrow we return. We spend 
the last evening looking at views and enjoying the baths, rising 
in the morning early enough to have our pictures taken, coach 
and all, in a group, before departing. We pass through the 
great gate of the mountains again, and, reaching Cinnabar, find 
cars waiting for us, that take us to Livingston, where we board 
our train for the East. 



THE RETURN TO NEW YORK. 

One never enjoys the confinement of a sleeping car as one 
does at the end of a rush of sightseeing and stagecoaching, and 
one returns to coaching and sightseeing with fresh pleasure and 
relief after twenty-four hours on the cars. After the closeness 
and confinement activity and light and air and joy ; and the 
confinement and closeness become rest and comfort after the 
rush and hurry and glare and bustle. When I was traveling 
months in and months out in all climates and vehicles I 
learned to appreciate the restfulness of contrasted pleasures, and 
to look upon the once abhorred railway cars as parlors of ease, 
the long journeys as delightful intervals of rest. 

Having left the Park we find it exceedingly hot. In the Park 
the weather was perfect, bright and balmy during the day, with 
a frosty nip at night that insured refreshing sleep. We found 
overcoats comfortable early in the morning, but laid them aside 
as the sun rose higher. It is always best to have heavy wraps 
with one, for in that region they have frost in every month in 
the year. Dusters one surely wants, and rubbers if they mean 
to walk across "Hell's Half Acre," or explore the geysers ex- 
tensively or closely, as one walks in more or less hot water. 

Now, after the coolness and comfort of the park, we find it 
outrageously hot and grumble accordingly. 

In the wee small hours of the early morning I wake to note 
the glare of the burning forest close to the train. The under- 
growth is a mass of fire, while sparks are whirling upward, 
lighting up the blackened trunks and limbs with at once a weird 
and picturesque effect. 

Quite early in the morning we pass through the Bad Lands, 
that wonderful region of petrifaction sometimes called Pyramid 
Park, and quite similar in some of its aspects to the Monument 
Park and Garden of the Gods of Colorado, while in others the 
country resembles the Book Cliff region of the Utah desert, the 
sharply cut cliffs rising abruptly from the rolling plain as if 
the long basin we are running through had once been a sea. 

We see not only cowboys, but cowgirls, as we term the women 
we see galloping over the plains after their cattle, and I think I 



850 ONCE MORE ALONE. 

wouldn't mind living on a plain in a cabin if I could ride as 
they do — comfortably, in defiance of civilized customs. 

We cross the broad Missouri River, red and muddy as it was 
when I crossed it at Omaha not many weeks ago. The extreme 
heat came on as the sun rose higher, and we fell into the old 
way of eating ice when we stopped at a supply station, hardly 
affording ourselves time from that refreshing occupation to ex- 
amine the attractive curio shop at the platform. Some very 
pretty articles can be picked up at wayside shops of this kind as 
souvenirs of the country in the way of skins, buffalo horns and 
Indian fancy work. Then it got hotter, and next morning it 
was hotter, and we were rested too much, and we thought we 
would not mind walking the remainder of the way. I went 
out on the platform and sat on, the second step and caught all 
the breeze and cinders going, and so escaped the closeness of the 
car and avoided fatiguing myself by talking other people to 
death, and was happy and soiled until we reached Minne- 
apolis, crossed the Mississippi and drew into the depot at St. 
Paul. Then I gathered up my traps, said good-by to the 
Northern Pacific Railroad, and proceeded in solitary state to a 
hotel. 

My friends had all stopped at Minneapolis, so I found myself 
once more alone in a strange hotel, which is just what I am 
unsociable enough to prefer, when properly tired. And the 
cozy room and restful bath almost persuaded me to throw away 
half a day — almost, but not quite. My time is limited and I 
must see Minnehaha. 

The famous little fall of Minnehaha lies at about the same 
distance from St. Paul that it does from Minneapolis. The 
proper way to see it is to drive from whichever of the two towns 
you happen to be stopping at to Minnehaha, and on to the other 
town and back to the original starting place, describing some- 
thing like a circle, and including the surrounding country. 
Starting from St. Paul we drive up several very steep streets to 
the level country, and then follow the Mississippi River to 
Old Fort Snelling, past the parade grounds, where some colored 
soldiers are drilling, and on through an open country over 
which some very black clouds are creeping rather ominously. 

The approaching storm comes very slowly, however, and 
does not finally break until my carriage draws up at the grounds 



LAUGHING WATER. 351 

pertaining to the falls of Minnehaha. At that moment a cy- 
clone sweeps across the country, tearing clown some trees close 
to the fall. I step for shelter under the roof of the lunch plat- 
form ; at the same moment my carriage disappears and my 
park friends come running up from the falls and, crossing the 
open, take refuge in front of a curio bazaar opposite. I stay 
where I am until the chairs and tables begin to blow away, and 
then, as the roof of the adjoining building falls down, I run 
across the open and greet my friends. 

We chatter mutual surprise, delight and experiences while 
we look at the pretty things in the shop, Indian works of art, 
until the rain slacks a little, and then my friends depart in a wild 
flurry of umbrellas and waterproofs, while I, with a waterproof 
lent me by the good-natured master of the shop and umbrella 
held firmly against the wind, cross the open again, and descend 
by slide and steps into the little ravine of the falls so aptly 
christened " Laughing Water." 

It is really the prettiest little fall I have seen, a broad, even 
sheet of crinkled, foaming, white and green, sparkling water. 
The trees on either side leaning over the gulch were wet with 
rain, which imparted a richer green to the picture. One tree 
was prostrate on the ground, broken off by the first hard gust of 
the cyclone. The trees are willows, and their tiny leaves form 
a pretty, feathery, fern-like frame for the " Laughing Water." 

When I return to my carriage the storm has settled into a 
steady doleful drizzle. We drive on past miles of fence wholly 
given over to the advertisement of local shops, miles of bril- 
liantly colored persuasion, adjuration, admonition, even com- 
mand to go to White's or Jones', while the peculiar virtues of 
the articles which were to be obtained were set forth in words 
of many hues. 

It was night when I reached Minneapolis, and rain did not 
set off its vaunted beauty. I have heard many laudations of 
the town, which are no doubt correct. I only saw muddy 
streets of straggling outskirts punctuated by a brief vision of 
glittering shops, grand hotels and theatres in a brilliant flood of 
electric light. Then we turned a corner, climbed a hill, turned 
another corner and set out for St. Paul over a country road in 
the rain, the mud and the dark. The way was long, part of the 
road ran through some deep woods. The rain fell dismally, 



352 A TRIP TO A MINNESOTA FARM. 

while the horses plodded along to the doleful splashing of the 
mud. I was alone and it was dark and a lonely road without 
houses for long distances ; but we were too near to a large city 
for road agents, I expect. Anyway, I didn't see any, though I 
felt sorry when I thought what a fine opportunity they were 
losing. When I finally got back to. St. Paul, climbed the long, 
hilly streets and entered the hotel, I was cold, tired, wet and 
hungry ; but it was 10 o'clock, so I took a warm bath and went 
to bed, deciding to get my supper for breakfast. 

It is really too bad to shoot across the continent on a fast ex- 
press like a meteor, for there is a great deal to see of interest in 
each State if one can only take the time to it. 

A short trip into Minnesota, to meet my sister, who is visit- 
ing friends who live upon a stock farm, proves interesting. Life 
on a farm is a hard one, especially when the thermometer falls 
to 52 degrees below zero, but there is some fun to be got out of 
it. They have all the sleighing parties they like in Winter, 
and a dance after a brisk drive over the snow in a neat little 
cutter with one's best girl, is all the livelier, and then the drive 
home. Really, we city folks do miss a great deal ! Even in har- 
vest time the boys are not too tired for an impromptu dance in 
the kitchen, if they've a city guest to entertain. 

The hostess takes us to drive to the town and look at the 
work of a recent cyclone, the streets are fenced in with pros- 
trate trees blown down and here and there we see a heap of 
shingles, all that is left of a house that but yesterday sheltered 
a family. Now and then we stop and ask a man what damage 
he has sustained from the wind and are regaled with accounts 
of roofless houses, broken windniills and ruined crops. After 
an interchange of experiences and sympathies and decided 
thankfulness for what is left to them, my hostess says, ' ' bring 
up your girls this evening, we want to give our visitors a 
dance." 

In the evening a few of the people come, each pair with horse 
and buggy; two young men are imported from town to supply 
us with music, one of them "calling off " in a peculiar way of 
his own, acting as dancing-master as well as leader. He is a 
nice young man with well oiled hair, which describes a curve 
that droops gracefully down the middle of his forehead, and an 
air of superiority and condescension that is not lost on us. 



A COUNTRY DANCE. 353 

They are not always dependent on fiddlers, however, for on 
another night we danced with equal zest to a rythmic jingle 
sung by the hired man. My sister took some of his unique de- 
scriptive music down as he sang it, so I am enabled to give a 
sample. The first quadrille was danced to the tune of "The 
Grasshopper Sat on a Sweet Potato Vine," and ran thus : 

" First lady swing 

With the right hand gent 
With the right hand around, 

The right hand around, 
Partner by the left, 

With the left hand around 
Lady in the center and seven hands around. 

Swing" her out — Allemen left., 
Right hand to your partner 

And grand right and left." 

This is danced with great spirit, while the hired man's bari- 
tone voice rolls out and his foot beats time. 
Another one with another popular air goes : 

" Salute your partners, now don't 6mile, 
Opposite to the same, in Norfield style. 

First lady give right hand across, 
Mind your eye and don't get lost 

Back with the left, keep hold of hands 
And balance four in a line 

Break and swing half round, balance four in a line, 
Break and spring to place. Allemen left. 

Another danced to the tune of a childish chant about Jonah's 
adventures I once heard, runs in a more romantic strain: 

" With a bow so neat, 
And a kiss so sweet 

Swing opposite lady round and round, 
Swing opposite lady round and round, 

Swing opposite lady round and round 
And then swing with your partner." 

But the last one, of which I only caught a line or two, danced 

to the tune of "The Girl. I Left Behind Me," is perhaps the most 

"fetching." 

" First couple lead to the right, 
And teeter up and down," 

sang the hired man (the Minnesota " teeter " isn't learned in a 

minute either), then 

" Pass right through 

As I tell you 
And swing that girl behind you." 

This goes off with a military dash, and when it is over we cry 
out " Oh, Hank ; sing us some more, do," 



354 NIAGARA. 

Hank can dance, too ; the girl he leads out on the floor is 
proud of having the executor of the fanciest steps in the room 
for a partner. 

The journey from St. Paul to Chicago was marked by- a vari- 
ation from my accustomed habit in traveling. I positively 
refrained from talking throughout the entire trip. Silence is, 
however, the distinguishing feature of short trips by rail. One 
night in a sleeper does not stir up one's social instincts as two 
or three days and nights do ; but after the long sociable journey 
on the Northern Pacific the extreme silence and constraint of 
my fellow passengers strikes me strangely.. Not that I object ; 
I welcome all changes with equal pleasure. After the incessant 
chattering I've done for days together I am glad to rest and re- 
flect, and I arrive in Chicago as sedate and solemn as anybody. 

We breakfast at Detroit, where, crossing the Detroit River on 
a boat that takes our tram bodily, I am reminded of the time 
when the passengers were obliged to gather up their baggage 
and leave the train to take another after crossing, much to 
their inconvenience ; but this is all changed now, and we re- 
main comfortably in our cars and are duly thankful. All day 
we travel through the British possessions, and toward evening 
we reach Niagara, and behold the beauty and grandeur of this 
great work of nature. 

Niagara has many aspects. Once I saw it in March, tumbling 
gray and terrible under a leaden sky, while I stood alone on the 
suspension bridge and listened to its roar. Sometimes the frost 
king seizes it and transforms it into a glittering mass of undu- 
lating ice with downward pointing spires and frosted drops ; 
then it is a grand and dazzling sight. But just now under the 
slanting rays of the sun and confined by green banks, it has a 
softer, more mellow beauty, as its rich green waters rush madly 
and f oamily over the immense precipice. The roar of the fall- 
ing water sounds less solemn under the bright blue sky of a 
summer day. 

Crossing the famous suspension bridge, looking far up the 
river toward the falls and down it to see the rapids, we are on 
American soil again. On we go, and do I imagine it, or is New 
York State really greener and more beautiful than any other ? 
No, it is not imagination. New York does not suffer from the 
drought that afflicts the Western and Middle States, and the rich 



THE GLORIOUS HUDSON — HOME. 355 

deep tints of green that make the country so beautiful to me are 
distinctive of the moister climate. 

At Buffalo, meeting- an old acquaintance in the conductor of 
the train, I resume my accustomed talkativeness, trying to 
squeeze the experiences of three months into an hour's chat. 
Failing that, I take to my berth to wake on the banks of the glor- 
ious Hudson, that rolls so majestically toward the sea. One 
doesn't need to go far from New York to see beautiful scenery. 
The wooded hills of Spuyten Duyviland the frowning Palisades 
with the broad Hudson between are as beautiful as any river 
scenery I have looked on. And so, I am reflecting patriotically 
on my native city as we roll into the Grand Central depot, 
which is the finest depot I have encountered in all my travels. 



IN CONCLUSION. 

This story of the travels of Lilian Leland cannot be more 
appropriately concluded than by quoting from an article 
written by her in eulogy of Ida Pfeiffer, in which she said : 

I will not dwell upon my own tour, made in all the safety and 
comfort of recent civilization, but call to mind the adventurous 
woman who traveled twice around the world before some of the 
" globetrotters" of to-day were born. I refer to Madame Ida 
Pfeiffer. I doubt if Ida Pfeiffer's record as a traveler has been 
broken by any man ; certainly no woman has approached her 
as a far and wide wanderer on the face of the earth. 

Madame Pfeiffer was forty -five years of age when she began 
her travels in 1842, visiting the Holy Land first, and then 
Scandinavia and Iceland. After these comparatively short 
trips she sailed for Riode Janiero. Leaving Rio de Janiero she 
sailed around stormy Cape Horn to Valparaiso. From there 
she went to the Society Islands, and thence via the Philippines 
to Hong Kong. From Hong Kong to Singapore, Ceylon and 
India. Crossing India she sailed up the Persian gulf, ascending 
the historic Tigris to Bagdad, and crossed Turkey in Asia and 
Georgia by caravan to the Sea of Azov. She proceeded next to 
Sebastopol, Odessa, Constantinople, Smyrna and Athens, and 
after calling at Corinth and Corfu, returned to Vienna by way 
of Trieste. 

She had spent two years and six months in her tour, and had 
compassed 2,800 miles by land and 35,000 miles by sea, and 
was the first woman to accomplish a journey around the world. 

In 1851 Ida Pfeiffer started out again with unabated zeal to 
see the world, going first to London. She sailed for Cape Town, 
and after rounding the Cape of Good Hope went to Borneo 
"plunging into the heart of that island." 

Sumatra claimed her attention next, and then she sailed to 
San Francisco, thence to Callao and later to Ecuador, ' ' making 
the ascent of the Cordilleras, and witnessing an eruption of 
Cotopaxi." She then proceeded to Panama, crossed the isthmus 
and went to New Orleans. Ascending the Mississippi, she 

356 



IDA PFEIFFER. 357 

visited Chicago, the lakes, Canada, Boston and New York, and 
back to England, completing her second journey around the 
world without touching a point she had visited on her first tour. 

It is not to be supposed that Madame Pfeiffer accomplished 
all this without some thrilling adventures. She had been set 
upon by a negro in Brazil, who cut her twice on her left arm 
before she was rescued, and whom she had cut in the hand in 
determined self-defense. She had fallen into a river swarming 
with alligators, had been seized by a Cossack and held a pris- 
oner until the examination of her baggage and passports satis- 
fied him of her harmlessness, and had been surrounded by 
cannibals in Sumatra, where her own tact and courage saved 
her from immediate death. 

But still she was not satisfied. She went once more to the 
Cape of Good Hope, sailed from there to Mauritius, and finally 
went to Madagascar. 

Madame Pfeiffer spent several months in the capital of Mada- 
gascar, whence she escaped with her life after thirteen days in 
prison and a long forced journey to the coast, only to die of the 
disease caused by these trying experiences, October 28, 1858. 

No one can hope to rival Ida Pfeiffer as a daring traveler, 
for the reason that the dangers attending such an expedition 
as hers are rapidly passing away. Civilization is spreading over 
every part of the world, and the lawless on land and sea are 
gradually succumbing to the regulating influences of the Amer- 
ican and European people. The traveler who thirsts for such 
"hairbreadth 'scapes" and dangerous adventures with cannibal 
and savage as lightened the monotony of Ida Pfeiffer' s life will 
have great difficulty in getting away from the beaten track and 
finding the haunt of the savage. 

To fully appreciate the courage and endurance of Ida Pfeiffer 
one must consider the disadvantages under which she traveled. 
The difference that forty years has made in the civilization of 
the world and the improvement in the various modes of getting 
about is very great. 

To-day we traverse a continent in a few days, sitting comfort- 
ably in luxuriously fitted cars, where she spent tedious weeks 
plodding wearisomely across burning plains and over snowy 
ranges. Drawn by the deliberate water buffalo, borne by the 
opinionated donkey, the positive mule, the stately camel, or in 




358 PLEASANT MEMORIES. 

palanquin by human hands, she traversed deserts and climbed 
mountains. The tent and the rude hut of the native sheltered 
her more often than the hotel. Instead of the record breaking 
steamer, a floating palace in appointments and size, pursuing a 
given course in a given time, with little or no reference to 
wind and wave, she crossed the oceans in sailing vessels, tossed 
and buffeted by the furious gales of Cape Horn and delayed by 
the burning calms of equatorial seas. 

America leads the world in the speed, comfort and luxury of 
her railroad service, and there is now an unbroken connection 
of comfortable steamer and comfortable car right around the 
globe, with European or American hotels at every junction. If 
one is possessed of sufficient courage to buy a ticket, lhre a por- 
ter or cabman, or pay a hotel bill, one has enough to last one 
around the world. 

It is a question in my mind whether after all the advan- 
tages are not in favor of the woman who travels alone. To 
travel, strictly speaking, alone, is impossible, unless one goes 
afoot or by canoe. The traveler by train or steamer must per- 
force move along with a crowd. The women who travels with 
husband, father or brother may be supposed to have one man 
dedicated to her especial protection, but as the woman who is 
alone appeals naturally to the heart of every brave and honest 
man, she becomes the charge of the officials and her fellow pas- 
sengers as well, and her unprotected condition secures the 
kindest attention and most considerate care of those who are 
best able to assist and protect her. 

In the event of accident at sea the officers of a vessel take 
particular care of the lone woman, holding themselves in a 
measure responsible for her safety. Under ordinary circum- 
stances they will endeavor to entertain her, advise and direct 
her, and when she passes beyond their own jurisdiction they 
will bespeak for her the special care of their most trusted friends 
and strive in every way to secure the future comfort, safety and 
pleasure of their transient charge. 

Of all the pleasant memories of a voyage around the world 
the most pleasant are of kindnesses received and the most grat- 
ifying knowledge acquired is the knowledge of the unselfish 
kindliness of the heart of man. 

Lilian Leland. 



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